“How is he?” Jillian inquired.
At one point, she would’ve said sad and broken, but the Dylan she had seen didn’t look to be either. He actually looked … good. “Fine,” she said.
There was a brief pause, as though her mother was weighing her options on which direction to take the conversation. Thankfully, Jillian opted to change the subject.
“So, do you have any interviews lined up?”
“Not yet.” Although she’d been putting in applications at various places ever since she quit her teaching job and opted to change her life, Sarah hadn’t landed a permanent gig. Truth was, she didn’t even know what she wanted to do, so she’d been getting by with various temp jobs—waitress, receptionist, a week as a bookkeeper, a hotel clerk for two days and plenty of computer jobs in the interim. Nothing had held her interest, so she kept looking, kept waiting for the perfect opportunity to arise.
Her mother laughed. “You’re the only person I know who can sound happy when they say that.”
Sarah smiled. There were days when she worried that she wouldn’t be able to pay her bills if she didn’t figure it all out, but for the most part, she was enjoying herself. She traveled on a whim, if she had the urge, although never too far and never to anywhere exotic. Plus, she focused on learning new things and figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
The downside to all of that was her lack of a routine to keep her busy.
With nothing to occupy her time, Sarah was left with too much time to think. She had yet to completely move on with her life, despite her efforts. Her social life had flourished there for a while, but as her therapist repeatedly informed her, she continued to allow the past to hold her back.
Her past being the people in her life who’d ridden roughshod over her heart.
Her father.
Her sister.
Paul.
Then Dylan.
“I know, Mom. I’m my own worst enemy.”
“You should go out more. You spend too much time at home.”
“I know.” Her mother wasn’t telling her anything new. She’d been harping on the same subject over and over for years now, to no avail.
Jillian sighed. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”
“To what?” Sarah asked, grinning. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
“No, but I figure you’re looking for something to clean as we speak.”
Her mother knew her too well. “Okay, fine. I am looking for something to clean. You’re welcome to come over and help if you’d like.”
“There’d be nothing for me to do,” Jillian said with a giggle. “I’ve seen your house. Spotless. But you’re welcome to come over and have a go at mine.”
She couldn’t deny that. Her house was spotless, but Sarah knew there was always something to do. “I might take you up on that if I run outta stuff here.”
“Like that’ll ever happen.” Jillian chuckled again. “Well, kiddo, don’t work too hard. I’ll talk to you later. And, Sarah…?”
“Yeah?”
“Quit thinking so much. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to keep putting one foot in front of the other.”
“I know, Mom. And I am. I promise,” she said reassuringly.
“Okay. If you need anything, just call.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
After the call disconnected, Sarah set her cell phone down on the table and stared around the room. She did need something to do. Which, as her mother had guessed, usually meant something to clean. Didn’t matter that it was after ten and she would do herself a favor if she simply went to bed. That never happened anymore. Sleep was overrated as far as she was concerned. With sleep came dreams, and those dreams always brought an uneasy feeling in the morning.
At least if she found something to occupy herself with, she might be able to rid herself of thoughts of Dylan. Namely thoughts of the way he had looked at her that night when he’d come by her house and ruthlessly (and beautifully) fucked her up against her living room wall. That night—probably the most memorable of her entire life—had happened all too quickly, hitting her like a boxer taking down his opponent. And she was the one who’d been KO’d.
Not that she’d been pining over the man all this time, because she certainly hadn’t. That would’ve been pure insanity.
Quite frankly, had it not been for the CISS party last weekend, Sarah might’ve believed she was over Dylan. However, the second she had walked out on the deck of the waterfront restaurant, her gaze straying to him, she’d felt it take root in her soul.
But that was done and over with. She had no reason to see Dylan again, so it would be in her best interest to move forward.
Too bad she couldn’t get him off her mind now.
DYLAN CLIMBED OUT OF HIS truck and nudged the door closed with his hip after snagging the flowers he’d purchased earlier that day from the passenger seat. He’d been putting this off for hours, but he’d finally relented, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d hate himself tomorrow.
Pulling his hood up over his head to stave off the bitterly cold wind, he made the grueling trek toward his destination. With every step he took, the constriction on his heart tightened. It had been three months since he’d been here, and yet it felt as though he’d made this same journey only yesterday.
Taking another deep breath, he willed his feet forward, clutching the flowers in his fingers. When he finally arrived at Meghan’s grave, he took another deep, cleansing breath, ignoring the cold drizzle that added to an already gloomy evening.
“Hey, honey,” he said aloud. He’d long ago stopped worrying whether or not people thought he was crazy for talking to his dead wife, but he knew at this time of night, it didn’t matter anyway. No one was out in the cemetery after dark. “I’m here.”
Not that she would ever answer him, but Dylan liked to pretend it was possible Meghan could hear him. He wanted her to anyway. It was the very reason he still came here three times a year to spend a little time with her, to tell her what was going on with his life. The same things he’d talked to her about when she’d been alive, only back then, his heart hadn’t been so heavy.
Glancing around, he confirmed the surrounding gravesites were absent any visitors, so he decided to take a seat. Lowering himself to the wet grass, he crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees after arranging the flowers in the vase set in the stone. The only light came from the randomly placed light posts, but it was enough for him to see.
“It’s not much,” he muttered as he straightened one of the drooping flowers. “Last minute and all.”