She’d taken most of their belongings to be auctioned off. Sara knew she had to start over fresh, and even the most generic of items were reminders of him. Not that she wanted to forget; never that, but Sara wouldn’t be able to progress beyond what she now was if he was staring her in the face every place she looked. The house was so empty, but it didn’t feel emptier. Everything that had meant anything to her had been gone for close to seven months now.
An offer had been made on the house and Sara was going to accept it. The truck was gone; the camper as well. Each time she parted with a piece of him, of Cole, she was brought that much closer to herself, whoever she was. Sara had to think his name; say his name, to make it real. She had to let go of him to find herself, to live. Sometimes she felt guilty about that, but most times Sara felt as though the restriction on her lungs had loosened a bit. He was with her; Cole would always be with her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t move on as well.
And then there was Lincoln.
Lincoln was absent from her everyday living, but never far from her mind. Sara didn’t know where they would go from here, what would become of them. She knew she missed him, everything about him. He had been the one solidarity in the flowing river of her despair, a lifejacket to keep her from drowning. But did she love him? Could she love him without feeling remorse? It was hard to think about him without thinking of Cole. None of this would even be an issue if he was still alive. But he wasn’t. And it was.
I saw you first, whispered through her, causing her to shiver. Lincoln saw her first, but she didn’t see him, not really, not till now.
Sara finished up with the last box, adjusting her teal blue cotton shorts and purple top as she stood. It was done now; all of him designated to cardboard boxes. Not that he could ever truly be kept within a box; he was in her heart and that was the safest, soundest place for Cole to be. Sara took a deep breath, trying to center the contradiction that was her. The need to see Lincoln; the need to stay away. The need to never let Cole go; the need to let him go.
All that was left was to remove the belongings from the house, along with her. That day would be upon her soon. In less than a week Sara was leaving. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Sara looked at the neat boxes sitting around her legs, stacked in rows. She turned away from her past. Sorrow and relief hit her as she left the garage. The sun was warm, soothing as it heated her. She looked at the house they’d bought together, remembering the wilting flowers around it, remembering their first night in the house, remembering him. Sara brushed tears from her eyes and pointed herself in the direction that would take her to Lincoln. She began to walk.
It was Sunday, which meant chances were good Lincoln wouldn’t be working. Sara knew that wasn’t always the case, especially with the weather nice as it was. Sunny days were working days for builders, no matter the day of the week. She had no words planned, nothing was forthcoming as far as what she should say when she saw him, if she saw him. Please be there.
With each step, her apprehension and anticipation built. Sweat began to trickle down her chest and Sara pulled the rubber band from her wrist and knotted her thick hair at the top of her head.
It took over an hour to reach the house in the woods. It loomed before her, Sara’s pulse speeding up as she took in the structure that epitomized all she loved. All I love? She froze, her hand pausing on her damp brow. Her hand slowly lowered to her side and Sara pushed the shock away, deciding now was not the time to think about that.
But as she walked up the steps of the deck and knocked on the door, seeing that drooping Christmas tree in the window, emotions she couldn’t ignore, not this time, slammed into her. Why hadn’t he taken it down yet?
“What are you doing here?”
Sara whirled around, her heartbeat escalating as she took in his unclothed chest. It was bronzed from the sun, muscled from daily physical labor. She knew that chest. Sara had run her fingers over it, smelled it, kissed it, felt it pushed against hers. Her eyes went up, meeting his dark gray ones. Lincoln’s hair was damp with perspiration and winged up around his ears and on the back of his neck, making him appear younger than he was. The black athletic shorts he wore hung low on his hips, showing the toned cords of his lower abdomen. She wanted him. Sara wanted Lincoln to hold her, kiss her, never let her go. Oh God, when had it happened? When had the emotions shifted, turned into more, become love?
“Were you running?”
“Yeah,” was Lincoln’s curt response.
“Why’d you keep the tree?” she blurted.
His eyes shifted down as he slammed a hand on his hip. “I felt sorry for it.” His pose was belligerent, like the set of his jaw.
Sara walked down a step. “You felt sorry for a tree?”
“Yeah. I did. It just…it looked so pitiful and tried so hard to survive and…yeah, I kept it. What do you care?” Lincoln scowled at her.
Another step.
“Why are you here anyway? I thought you needed time, space, whatever.” Lincoln’s words were harsh, but his voice was strained, like he was struggling to stay in control, like he was hurting on the inside and trying to hide it on the outside.
“It reminded you of me, didn’t it?”
“No,” he quickly denied.