Maybe, I would wear it on the day Coral Pines disappeared in the rearview mirror of Jake’s bike.
I watched a tourist boy try to pull up a massive grouper that he wasn’t prepared for or even skilled enough to catch. The boy was a teenager and a very small one at that. I guessed he couldn’t have been more than fourteen. After more than twenty minutes of battling his catch, he finally reeled in the enormous fish just enough to break the surface of the water, exposing the full figure of what looked to be a forty pound catch. He didn’t have time to celebrate. The second the creature’s tail lifted off the top of the water, the tip of the boy’s rod broke from his pole, and his line snapped, sending him backwards on his ass to the sidewalk and the grouper back home to the river floor with a free meal of Spanish mackerel in its belly.
I imagined I was that boy. I had something so massive and wonderful just within reach. I was starting to believe my line was ready to snap just like his did.
I missed Jake.
It had been weeks since he left. I was starting to lose faith that he would come back to me. I tried to be strong, to believe in him in the same way he seemed to believe in me. I knew how he felt about Owen, even before he’d done what he had to me. I knew how strongly he’d react when he heard what had happened, but I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about me once he knew. As difficult as it was for me, I had to believe we could make it through. After all, he was the one who’d taught me to trust him with my pain. I just hoped that he would trust me with his.
I didn’t know how I would find the words, so I decided I’d speak through my pictures instead.
The moment the afternoon storm clouds chose to block out the sun before delivering their usual torrent, I felt him. Even before I saw him.
I was still on my bench but had just shifted my focus from the tourists to the weather when the awareness of him washed over me. My skin prickled with anticipation, and my heart fluttered in ways I wasn’t used to at all. I smoothed my hair with my hands as I stood and walked off the bridge, hoping that when I got back to the apartment, he would be there, and that the feeling wasn’t just some misguided intuition.
I had only taken a single step when I saw him. He stood at the bottom of the bridge in all his black leather glory.
Jake.
I tried to walk and not run toward him, but as I got closer, I couldn’t help picking up my pace. By the time I was halfway to where he was, I’d broken into a full-on sprint. I flung myself into his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist. His smell was intoxicating—leather and sweat and pure testosterone. I couldn’t help running my hands through his hair and taking a deep breath so I could take him all in.
I molested him this way for a while before I realized how stiff he was. His arms hadn’t come around me. His lips never touched my face. When I finally pulled back, I realized his gaze was as hard as stone and focused sternly on his feet.
I didn’t know what he would be like after he finished a kill. Honestly, I had been through so much of my own shit that I hadn’t spent any time thinking about it, either. Now, I realized that he’d been through something incredibly dark while he was gone. Maybe, he just needed to ease back into the reality of his other life.
I touched his chin with my fingers and raised his face. His beautiful blue eyes met mine, but they were cold and distant. I softly ran my lips over his, giving him time to react to my nearness. But when he stayed stiff and still even after all that, I knew there was something more happening.
“Jake?”
He took a step back and my feet met the ground.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. Now, I was confused. What could have happened to make him this cold to me when he’d been so hot and affectionate before he left?
He shuffled his feet and pinched the bridge of his nose before he spoke. His words were horrifying. “I’m just going to ask you this once, Abby.” His voice sounded shaky and gravely, and his nickname for me went noticeably unused.
I nodded. I would answer whatever he needed. Of course, I would. “Okay.”
“Did you, or did you not, fuck Owen Fletcher while I was gone?”
My stomach turned sick, my arms so heavy I wasn’t sure my frame would support them. They hung limply by side as I tried to form a coherent thought.
“What?” It was all I could manage.
“I asked you if you fucked Owen Fletcher.” He said it through gritted teeth, with his fists clenched at his side, his steel face blushing slightly. I could see his jaw clench and his pulse beating quickly within his temple.