Collins
NOW
Amber light spills softly across the bedroom as morning slowly creeps in through the curtains.
When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is Johnnie’s hair fanned out across my pillow, strands tangled against the sheets like silk.
Memories of the night before flicker through my mind in quiet flashes, and a calm settles in my chest that I haven’t felt in a long time.
She shifts slightly beside me until we’re face to face. Her hands curl beneath her chin as she lets out a small sigh, still half asleep. She’s beginning to stir, but her eyes remain closed.
I don’t move. Not even a breath more than necessary.
There’s an uneasiness humming beneath the surface of my chest, and I find myself wanting to stretch this moment out for as long as I possibly can. Just lying here with her feels fragile, like something that could disappear the second I reach for it.
Her eyelids twitch.
She’s dreaming.
The soft morning light catches on her dark lashes, long and feathery, casting faint gray shadows down the curve of her cheeks. I watch her like that, memorizing every detail without even realizing I’m doing it.
Whatever she’s about to tell me…whatever truth she’s been carrying all this time…I can’t imagine it changing how I feel about her.
And yet my mind refuses to stop racing.
What could be so terrible that it’s haunted her this long?
My thoughts spiral until I realize my gaze has drifted lower. I’m staring at her mouth, at the perfect dip in the center of her top lip. Just then, a corner of it lifts into the faintest smile.
My eyes snap up. Her gaze meets mine.
“Hi,” she breathes softly.
“Hey, beautiful.”
The words leave me easily, automatically, but her smile fades almost as quickly as it appeared.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“For what?”
“For giving me even more than I asked for.” Her voice trembles slightly. “Last night was the best of my life…and I’ll always remember us this way.”
Her words sting.
“Stop talking like this is the end,” I say, irritation weaving through my words.
“Collins.”
The way she says my name makes something twist painfully in my chest. I push myself upright, resting my back against the headboard, the sheets bunching around my waist.
“Just tell me,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “What is it? Rip the damn bandage off. I can’t take it anymore.” The harshness in my tone hits the air between us immediately, and regret floods in just as fast.
She flinches.
Actually flinches, like the words physically struck her.
“Shit…I’m sorry.”
My hand reaches out before I can think better of it, the back of my fingers brushing gently against her cheek.
“I’m just scared of losing you,” I admit quietly. “We just got all this back…and it’s driving me crazy thinking there’s something out there bad enough to tear us apart again.” I swallow hard. “Please…just tell me before it swallows us both whole.”
She slowly pushes herself upright, gathering the sheets to her chest like armor.
I reach down beside the bed and grab the T-shirt I discarded on the floor the night before, holding it out to her.
She takes it without a word, pulling it over her head, she buries her face briefly in the collar.
“It smells like you,” she murmurs.
The quiet confession makes my chest ache.
She runs her fingers through her tangled hair, then tucks her legs beneath her, stretching the oversized shirt down over her knees. After a moment, she clears her throat.
“Do you remember that night we sat on your tailgate, sharing beers?”
Of course I remember.
How could I not?
It was the last time I saw her that summer.
The last night before everything fell apart.
I don’t answer. I just stare at her, because we both know I remember.
“That was a really bad night, Collins.”
Confusion must be written all over my face as I search my memory, trying to piece together what she’s getting at.
“What happened?”
She lifts both hands to her face, breathing deeply through them. The sight of it makes my heart lurch painfully in my chest.
Whatever she’s remembering…it’s tearing her apart all over again.
My mind scrambles for something to say, anything that might make this easier. But, the words refuse to come.
“Johnnie?”
Slowly, she lowers her hands. Her eyes are red.
I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Tell me.”