by Ana Balen
On some level, I did love her. Even when we were in the honeymoon stage of our marriage, I was painfully aware that it wasn’t the kind of love I had for Sophie. And that it never would be. I did my best not to make it obvious and buried the disappointment I would never have something like I did with Sophie again. Obviously, I failed.
It was a bitter thing to swallow, the knowledge that it wasn’t just Cindy who was responsible for the collapse of our life together.
I thought back to the woman I had before Cindy and even after. Not one came even close to give me what Sophie did that afternoon just with a touch and a kiss.
It was good she got spooked when she heard Zara having fun. If she didn’t and if she stayed where she was, I was sure I would find somewhere to hide us from view and strip her out of her coat and whatever clothes she had under it and I would be buried balls deep within two minutes.
Fuck.
If Sophie didn’t leave, there was no telling what would happen.
I would probably give in and listen to my dick’s demands. And all hell would break loose.
No, I needed Sophie to leave Hopeful. No matter how much I wanted her, the taste of her that still lingered on my tongue. No matter how much the loss of her touch hurt like a phantom limb, I couldn’t let the need wreak havoc on our lives.
And sure, it was whacky, but I called dibs on this town.
It was my home.
It was my daughter’s too.
And I wasn’t strong enough to have her this close and not do anything about it.
The same reasons why I broke us up in the first place still stood. Sophie was too big for this town, she had too much to offer. And she was meant for bigger and greater things. Something I could never give her.
She may have thought she wanted to live in Hopeful, was ready to live a quieter life, but I followed her over the years. Kept tabs on her career. What she did was no less than a miracle. What she made of herself and in the end filled me with pride. It cost me everything, to sever us that brutally, but she did what she was meant to do. She saved lives.
I knew that behind the decision of staying in Hopeful, of opening up a practice here was nothing more than her giving in to the grief she felt. She lost a woman that was her whole world and she needed to feel her close. Soon, that feeling would be gone and she would wake up and see that it wasn’t for her. She settled and in the end, she would want to leave.
If I gave in and became part of that equation, not to mention Zara, she never would. And I would be sentenced to watch a woman I loved more than my own life, waste away right before my eyes. Again.
Fuck, no.
I couldn’t let that happen.
So, yeah. Fuck, yeah. She needed to go.
For everyone’s sake.
I went back to stare blindly at nothing, counting down the minutes until it was time for Zara to call goodnight and I would be all clear to open that bottle. I didn’t drink usually. But tonight, I needed that blissful oblivion that only alcohol could provide.
I needed to forget about that kiss.
I also needed to stop feeling all the things I did and to quiet down the voice in my head that screamed Sophie’s name over and over.
And that was when it happened.
The pierce I felt only once before in my life.
The moment I laid my eyes on her while she laughed in the main square with her grandmother, and Mrs. McConnell in the square when she first came back.
It wasn’t a need, want, or even love.
It was simply a reminder.
A forgotten fact.
That I was claimed.
A slight cough brought me back and I looked at the woman sitting opposite of me. Specifically, the enormous smile on her face.
“What?” An uneasy feeling swam in me. Vivian was up to something.
“You’re an idiot,” she said through her smile.
That shit again. “Fine, I’ll play,” I sighed and gave in to the game she was playing all day. “Why am I an idiot?”
“Because I saw that kiss and I’ve seen your face while you watched her running away after it.” She took a sip. She was goading me. “And all day I’ve been looking at the torn expression you were sporting. Until now. A lightbulb went off in that brain of yours.”
The saliva poured in my mouth at the mention of the kiss and the memories of it. I was literally salivating after Sophie.
“I’m not torn.” I swallowed.
“Sure, you aren’t,” Vivian said lightly. Then her face got serious. “What did she tell you?”
I don’t know why, I would never know why, but at her question, it was as if the dam broke and I told her everything that happened between Sophie and me from the moment I stormed into her office until that afternoon.
“And the lightbulb?” Vivian asked softly. Gone was all the teasing and calling me an idiot. My friend felt for me. For us.
“Why are you fighting against it?” There was genuine curiosity on Vivian’s face.
“Because she should live a big life, she’s a thoracic surgeon, for Christ’s sake.” I glanced at my girl to make sure she wasn’t eavesdropping. “When she becomes aware of the fact I can’t give her much, she would know it as much as I do. And she would stay. She would never leave. But I would be forced to watch her long for something I can’t provide for her. Something more. Besides, look what happened with Cindy.”
“I won’t go into the reasons why you keep selling yourself short. But you know that’s bullshit, right?” Vivian leaned deep and put her mug on the coffee table that was between us, but she stayed that way and looked at me firmly. She wanted me to take in what she had to say. “Dylan, you’re more than enough. You’re probably every girl’s dream man. But, after I met Sophie, even at a glance, I knew she is perfect for you. You two are perfect for each other.”
When I said nothing, Vivian whispered, “I felt the same with Jack. What you’re feeling with Sophie. And, honey, I would give everything to have it back. Why the hell are you running away from it?”
That hit close to home. I stayed silent. When she got like this, there was nothing in this world that would get Vivian to leave it alone. I just had to ride the wave. If I opened my mouth, she would see her point hit the bullseye and she would drive me crazy.
“Tell me something,” she said conversationally, like she didn’t just tip my world upside down by reminding me of what she lost and what I was willingly throwing away.
“What?” I grunted.
“She said Zara, or I, since you don’t know which one, she was referring to, has your future. And she has your past.” There was a glimmer in her eyes that told me plainly I should brace.
“Yes?” I pushed the question between my clenched teeth.
“What’s in between?” Vivian whispered, making it seem like she knew the answer.
I was right, I should have braced myself.
The moment she asked the question, Sophie’s voice sounded in my mind. It tore me to shreds all over again.
Because I felt exactly the same.
Every day after you threw me away was a struggle. Every day I prayed I would get better. Every day I hoped the pain would be less painful. And all through those days I slapped a smile on my face and faked my way through. And every night I fell asleep in tears, wishing the next day wouldn’t come. Because even the thought of you not being a part of it ripped me in half.
With enough time, you become a master at hiding it.
It was on the tip of my tongue. I almost let the curse explode from my mouth. By some miracle, I managed to bite it and not let it loose.
I couldn’t help the painful grunt, though.
“Go,” Vivian whispered and I focused on her. “Go and get her.” She indicated to Zara with the tilt of her head, her arm thrown over the chair’s back. “I have our girl.”
12
Sophie
I was finishing up cleaning the kitchen, my Christmas bake-off done which was not nearly as much fun when do
ing it alone as it was with my grandma or as it would be with Zara, when there was a loud bang on the door.
I didn’t want to answer it.
Not after what happened that morning or afternoon.
But since I was still a town’s doctor and there could be an emergency, I had no choice.
I did not expect the man that was standing there, his fist raised, ready to pound some more on my door, to stand where he stood.
“Tell me,” he growled before I had the chance to say anything.
“Tell you what?” I asked. Why was he here? Why did he keep coming after me? Why did he feel the need to torture me so much?
“What is in between?”
Oh, God!
“Don’t do this, Dylan. Please,” I pleaded with him, but he just shook his head and a stubborn look in his eyes intensified.
My mouth suddenly went dry, but I powered through. If he wanted to know this badly, then he’ll know.
“Dreams,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Dreams are what’s in between.”
“Dreams of what, baby?”
Baby.
God.
Oh, God!
He has been killing me for the last three weeks. Sure, it was unknowingly just by showing me glimpses of the man he once was. Of the one he became. Still, I thought I couldn’t survive it. And after that kiss, I was sure that day would be the last one I had on this earth.
But I was wrong.
This.
This is what was going to be the final blow.
The word baby said in that soft tone wrapped in velvet only he could have.
“Dreams of you, of us.” I swallowed hard before I said what I said next. “And dreams of a little girl with brown eyes that have a deep blue rim around its irises and she shrieks whenever she talks.”
“Sophie,” he grunted before his hand that he had on my doorframe shot out and tagged me behind my neck.
He yanked me to him so forcefully, my head jerked back and caused me to yelp.
It didn’t stop him though.
I suspect nothing in that moment would.
My body hit his, the palms of my hands trapped between us. I could feel his heartbeat beneath them.
“You dreamt of me? Of my girl?”
“Every second of my life since you shoved me out of yours,” I whispered, getting lost in the look he had.
The one that caused my knees to go weak.
The one that took my breath away.
He grunted once more, the sound coming deep from his gut, like someone sucker-punched him, and then I could see him no more.
He was kissing me. The sheer beauty of Dylan’s kiss was too much. It forced me to close my eyes. To shut out the world around us and to give in fully.
And it wasn’t a welcome back kiss, it wasn’t the first kiss that inevitably changed someone’s lives.
No.
This was a re-claiming kiss.
He didn’t need to do it, I hadn’t shed his claim ever.
But I was glad he did.
From the moment our lips touched, his tongue forced apart mine and he plunged it in my mouth, taking everything I had to give him.
I vaguely heard the door shut, I had no idea how we got to the couch since all I could feel was his tongue that did marvelous things playing with mine. His teeth nipped my lips. And his hands as they pulled my clothes off me.
I felt like I was floating.
My blood started to boil in my veins and if I didn’t get him soon, I was sure I would go up in flames.
“Dylan,” I panted, but I got no more out because his lips and tongue and teeth went back to mine.
His hands squeezed my ribcage, almost as if he was trying to get to my heart. Didn’t he know he held it in his hands already? That I gave it to him a long time ago?
His knees shoved between my legs the second he had me lying down on the couch, but I already spread them, and he fell through, hitting my sweet spot with his groin.
“Dylan, honey.” I was out of breath. I was out of practice, but I couldn’t get to him fast enough.
“Hush, baby,” he muttered, looking at me for only a second then going back to what he was doing. And that was getting me naked.
“I need you,” I whispered in his ear.
“In a minute,” he growled.
I didn’t have a minute. I was sure something would happen and it would wake me up from this dream.
I shoved my hand between our bodies, found the buttons of his jeans, and pulled. The satisfying sound of them popping open just made my already painful throb excruciating.
“Sophie.” He squeezed me one last time before he pulled my now braless breast in his mouth. As exquisite as it felt, I didn’t allow the feeling to deter me from my focus and I put my hands in his jeans and felt him.
He was hard. And he felt even bigger than I remember he was.
“Dylan, please,” I mewled when he gave a big pull on my nipple.
He must’ve heard the agonizing need in my voice because he lifted his head, looked at my face and grunted, “Jesus.”
“I need you, honey,” I whispered, again.
His hands went between us, they pushed mine away, and not even a minute later he was inside me.
I hadn’t had a man in a while.
I hadn’t had Dylan in seventeen years.
He was big, the stretching kind of stung, but I welcomed it.
Cherished it.
Pushing my hands under his shirt, my palms felt his hot skin. “Dylan?” I moaned my question just to be sure this wasn’t some kind of dream.
“Here, baby,” he whispered, his eyes roaming my face.
He began to move. Slowly at first but quickly, he gained momentum.
“Dylan,” I moaned again.
“Right here, baby,” he repeated almost as if he knew I needed it.
As his thrust became more in power and in speed, so did my peak become more and more in my reach.
“Dylan,” I gasped.
“Sophie, I’m here,” he grunted between thrusts, but I was too gone to say anything back. Not even to repeat his name.
My eyes closed, my muscles spasmed, and a million multi-colored stars burst in my mind’s eye as I climaxed.
“Christ.” I could hear Dylan almost bark.
I pushed up to his ear and still in the clutches of the best orgasm I had in over a decade, I whispered the truth that defined me, “I love you.”
“Christ,” Dylan moaned as if he was in pain.
Five seconds later he growled, “Sophie, baby,” and collapsed on top of me.
It was a weight I loved.
The sensation of having his body on top of me finally allowed me, for the first time after he left me, to relax.
And five seconds after I heard him whisper in my neck, “I love you, too,” I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I was alone on the couch, a blanket thrown over my naked body and the house was dark.
I pushed up on my elbow, looking around.
“Dylan,” I called, but there was no sound coming from anywhere.
He left.
He left me again.
If it wasn’t for the fact I was, indeed, naked and there was some pain, the good kind, coming from between my legs, I would convince myself it was all a dream.
As there was all that plus the fact, I could smell him all over me, I could not.
I tried to stop the burning sensation in my throat on its way out and swallow it down, but I failed.
A choked sound came out and three fat tears landed on my bare forearm.
Wiping the tears away, I told myself to stop.
Stop crying, stop feeling sorry for myself.
Stop longing for the man who obviously didn’t want me.
I stood up, gathered my clothes, and began to put them on, stopping every few seconds to brush off my tears and repeat my mantra.
It was of no use.
I couldn’t help it.
It felt like I was trying to pu
sh my heart out right through my chest and out of my mouth. And leak the blood from my eyes.
By the time I was fully clothed, had the blanket tucked in a hall closet, and was staring for a good half an hour at the empty fireplace and a soft glow of the lamp trying to chase away the darkness, the tears finally stopped.
The feeling of my own heart trying to choke me to death was still present, but I told myself if I tried hard enough, I would be able to swallow it down.
And that was what I was doing when the door silently opened.
“You were crying,” Dylan whispered when I turned my head and looked at him over the couch.
He was standing just inside holding what looked like a tree, but I couldn’t tell for certain as it was dark and I could only see shadows.
“You’re here,” I whispered.
“I’m here,” he whispered back, not moving.
“I thought you left,” I admitted.
“I did.” He nodded and my heart went back to its upward way. “I cut a tree for you and had to go get it. But when I came home, Zara was just going to bed and wanted me to read her a bedtime story,” he explained.
All I heard was that he cut the tree for me and had to go get it.
“You’re here,” I whispered, fresh tears, this one in relief, filling my eyes.
“I’m here,” he whispered back.
When I said nothing more and stayed put, not moving just looking at him, he leaned the tree against my wall and came straight for me.
I tracked his movements and turned my head, not willing to lose sight of him for even a second. Kneeling in front of the couch, he cupped my cheeks, pulled my face to his, and gave me a soft kiss.
The soft part got lost quickly.
I got lost in Dylan again and when I came to, I was on a downward glide.
“Dylan,” I panted.
I pushed up just as slowly and stopped mid glide. I looked around and saw a pile of clothes on the floor by the couch. Hunh… I didn’t have any memory of us stripping. All I could concentrate was the feel of having Dylan. His hands, his smell, his lips.
“Sophie.” Dylan pushed me up and slammed me down on his cock.
God, that felt great.
“Dylan.”
“I’m here, Sophie,” he assured me for the hundredth time.