Series: Bleeding Hearts#2
Release Date: Oct 20,2016
The distance from Colorado to Maine is not far enough to escapethe memories.
The time I've been away is not long enough to heal the pain.
I left Colorado, determined to discover who I am outside of my grief, but I fell apart along the way.
I'm lost again.
When Jude follows me, I can't turn him away. But I can't let him in, either.
Not all the way.
I know when he finds out my secret, the one I keep hidden in the darkest part of my heart,he’ll leave me.
Alone.
Like I was before.
He laughed, but it was without humor. He dropped his head andstared at his plate as I had minutes earlier. “Am I okay?” Shaking his head, he said,“No, I’m not fucking okay.” He pushed away from the table hard enough thatthe screech of the chair across the wooden floor startled me. Jude was always so steady, and while hewasn’t necessarily predictable, he wasn’t prone to outbursts of anger like this. Hepicked up his plate and walked to the sink and I stared at his back, willing him to talk to me. But Icouldn’t ask that of him.
Picking up my plate, I debated what to do. It was surreal almost,being in Jude’s apartment but not touching him the way I wanted to. Finally, I joined him atthe sink as he worked a sponge into a lather and swiped it across his plate. “Let me doit,” I said softly, reaching a hand in to take the sponge from him.
He let go of the plate and clasped my forearm as I reached into thesink. His touch was gentle as he turned my wrist over and rubbed a thumb slowly across the length ofmy vein, visible through my translucent skin. I could only hold my breath as he touched me like this,like he was memorizing the blue lines that ran the length of my forearm. His hands were warm,searching, and I realized that I’d been yearning for this, for the simple act of him touching myskin like it was delicate. His fingers moved down, and my closed fist opened to give him access to mypalm, where he traced the lines in my hands. It was so intimate, even in its simplicity, that all I coulddo was watch him as he examined my hands. “I’ve missed you,” he said in avoice that was just short of a whisper. My heart turned over as he bent my fingers gently back into myfist and rubbed his soapy fingers over the knuckles.
When he let go of my hand and turned away from me, I felt goosebumps ignite across my skin. All I wanted was for him to keep touching me, but I’d hurt him.And he’d hurt me.
We had miles of pain between the two of us, and even though wewere no longer miles apart, that pain existed between us like another person, holding both of usback.
“I missed you too,” I said too late, when I’dcaught my breath again.
“Please,” he pleaded as he rinsed the plate in hishands. “I can’t hear you say that right now.”
Nodding, I backed away. I understood. This wasn’t the timeor place, and we were little more than strangers right now. I was a new Trista, someone he had neverknown.
Likely, someone he didn’t want toknow.
I am a wife to one and a mom to two humans and one cat. I have adeep and abiding love for nachos - especially the kind with the liquid cheese, like from Taco Bell(sorry). I run on less than four hours of sleep thanks to copious amounts of Diet Coke. (Note: thisparagraph is not sponsored by anyone except my hungrystomach.)
As a Navy brat, I grew up all over the country, from California, upthe east coast from Florida to New England and Colorado. I currently live in Idaho, where we have lotsof potatoes and windmills.
I write character-driven New Adult novels, heavy on the emotionalconnection. I LOVE love. I love writing about broken characters who find their soulmates.
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