The words were new, but the gravel in his voice was familiar, though it had been years, as was the weight of his hand at the base of my neck and the prickle of anticipation that preceded it.
My body recognized him.
My heart missed him.
My soul needed him.
He still wore the same cologne, the smell not least of which incited a mere few dozen flooding episodes in the years after he left. It closed in around me as a result of our proximity, the ridge of my nostrils flaring with a mixture of panic and excitement, now that it was all I could breathe in.
Lungs shaking, my tongue snuck out to wet my lips, deepening my inhale, and my heart spasmed.
Dean pressed the wall of his hips into my stomach. I should’ve wanted to say something. I should’ve told him to stop. I should’ve told him this wasn't fair. I should’ve told him I wasn’t ready.
His hand moved from the dip of my throat to the curve of my neck, edging our lips closer. So close I could faintly taste the black in his morning coffee.
“I have a blue wallet,” I blurted.
The crack in the air around us subsided, and in its ebb was something else entirely. Something new.
“What?” he asked in disbelief against my lips.
“I have a blue wallet.”
Lifting his head a few inches, his eyes found mine. “Okay?”
“When you left, and Henry—” One of the talons grief had around my heart squeezes and my sentence dropped off shortly after it had begun. “I retreated to the shadows of me after that, Dean.” I felt his body coil with tension against mine, but that was too bad. He needed to hear this, and more so, I needed to say it.
I needed to explain the parts of me that I had managed to heal, and make no apologies for the ruthlessness in which I chose to protect them now.
“I couldn't see colour. I couldn't appreciate colour… For years, I lived in varying shades of black, and then one day, I didn't. Little by little, I revived the coloured parts of me in tangible places where I would remember them.” The back of my head dropped against the wall. This way he could see all of my face when I told him, “The me after you took a long time to appreciate colour…but now I have a blue wallet.”
“Now you have a blue wallet,” he repeated.
I nodded. “And I can't give you or anyone else that part of me. She belongs to me.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “I'll buy you a million blue wallets, Charlie.” The span of each of his rough palms cupped the sides of my face.
Sighing, I closed my eyes. He didn’t get it. Wrapping my fingers around each of his wrists, I tugged them away and he let me.
“Whenever you get done hurting me back, Charlie, I'll still be waiting.”
Then he too was gone. I felt the chilled air replace his warmth and the heavy door to the stairwell open and close. My eyes eventually opened to the empty corridor, as I slid my back against the wall until my ass found the ground.
Digging through my purse, I found what I was looking for and laid it in my lap. Turning it over once or twice, I admired the way the white polish on my nails contrasted perfectly with the leather.
I’d bought it the day I remembered how good it felt to laugh. It was summer. I'd been walking through Stanley Park. Two boys were chasing their sister through the trees and one of them reminded me of Henry when we'd been young. They finally caught her, tickling her ruthlessly into the grass, and the sound of their laughter was contagious.
I’d laughed for the first time in years, and I mean really laughed. I’d laughed so hard my sides ached and tears trailed my cheeks.
I bet I looked crazy, and I hadn't cared.
The sky had been blue that day, just like my blue wallet.
“So tell me about Beau.” Doctor Colby asked, “What draws you to him?”
I drained the last of my venti caramel macchiato and positioned it onto the table. “It’s simple, really. I think something about him makes me feel accepted in my entirety.” She took notes as I spoke. “Beau is effortless.”
“How do you mean, effortless?” she questioned.
I twisted the lid of the empty cup. “You know how sometimes you just do something because it feels nice, it feels right, and feels like you’ve done it every day for your entire life?”
Doctor Colby nodded. “You mean similar to a habit?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Beau is the good kind of habit. I find a serene part of my soul when we’re together, one that feels more whole.”
She frowned. “Do you feel that he is what makes you whole?”
This was a test, I knew that, but luckily the truth I knew would pass. “No.” I shook my head. “I don’t believe Beau makes me whole, but I believe that in his peace, I’ve found some of my own,” I told her.
“Inner peace is a very rewarding feeling.”
I nodded. “He just sees me, and with no explanation, he accepts that. It’s quite uncanny.”
“Do you believe now that people are capable of so much more than an expendable high, Charleston?”
Looking up from the cup, I moved my eyes over her office. “I’m trying too.”
She seemed appeased with that.
“And what about”—she glanced back a few pages in her notes—“Maverick?”