Johnnie
NOW
Light filtering through the closed blinds wakes me from the most peaceful sleep I’ve had since returning to Laken. My eyes feel crusty from crying myself to sleep, and that’s when I remember Collins.
He’s here.
He stayed with me.
I reach an arm over to feel his warm skin, but all I’m met with are cool, rumpled sheets. Sitting up, I try rubbing the grit from my tired eyes and smell…
Hazelnut.
On the nightstand is a steaming paper cup of coffee. I pick it up and take a sip, its sweet warmth rolling over my tongue. I hate mornings, always have. This one, though…it might be the best I’ve felt about taking on a day in a really long time.
My gaze snags on something written in black sharpie on the side of the cup.
A phone number.
My lips tug upward and my heartbeat quickens at the sight of those ten digits. I pick up my phone, add his name to my contacts, and then fire off a text before doubt has time to catch up with me.
Johnnie:
Thanks for the coffee :)
Collins:
You’re still cute when you snore
Johnnie:
I don’t deserve you
Collins:
The asshole in me wants to agree, but I’d be lying
Johnnie:
I don’t like liars
Collins:
Give me the chance to prove you’re worthy of good things?
Johnnie:
I’ll try
The smile on my face breaks through without my permission, and emotions that have been bottled up for so long overflow, manifesting into tears that now magnify the letters on my phone screen.
I swipe the dampness from my face and toss my phone aside, planting my feet on the floor, pushing toward the bathroom. I need to gather myself. The feeling that man stirs in me, it’s probably false hope.
Then the ringtone shatters all silence.
It reverberates through these quiet walls. My heart jumps as I turn back, crossing the room in a few strides.
And when I see his name lit up on the screen, the already fast heartbeats in my chest take off even more.
COLLINS
I told myself to let it go, that I already said too much in that text. But the truth beats louder than my restraint ever could, and I’m exhausted from pretending it isn’t there. From swallowing it down like it won’t burn on the way.
She walked back into my life when I’d finally convinced myself she was gone for good.
And maybe she’ll leave me wrecked all over again—worse this time, if that’s even possible.
I tell myself I won’t fall back into her orbit, won’t make the same mistake twice, but my resolve is wearing thin, thread by thread.
Every smile she gives me, every soft laugh.
It unravels something I’ve barely managed to hold together.
When it comes to her, I’m weaker than I’ve ever been.
And when I surrendered, asking her to come out here to our spot, these woods, this stretch of mud and memory…she didn’t hesitate.
The engine growls beneath us, low and steady, vibrating up through the frame and into my bones. She sits behind me on the four-wheeler, close enough that I can feel the heat of her through my shirt, yet too far away.
There was a time she would’ve wrapped her arms around my waist without thinking, pressed her cheek between my shoulders like she belonged there.
Now, her hands are barely resting, only tight enough to not fall. She’s afraid of what might happen if she holds on too tight, I can sense it.
Or maybe she’s afraid of what she’ll feel if she does. I know I am.
Mud spits out behind the tires as I push us faster down the narrow trail, branches snapping too close, the woods closing in on us like it always did. The air is thick, damp, and heavy with the kind of silence that says so much.
She hasn’t spoken. Not since she climbed on behind me. And I haven’t asked her to.
All the things that have been buried, all the questions I never got answers to, all the truths I’m not sure I want to hear. They linger overhead, threatening to slice through every fragile feeling her return has stirred back to life.
My jaw tightens as I take a sharp turn, the back end fishtailing just enough to make her shift. Her fingers clutch my shirt for a split second.
It shouldn’t mean anything.
But it means everything.
My chest tightens, something raw and jagged dragging itself up from the place I’ve been shoving it down for years. She still fits here. Like no time has passed. Like she didn’t leave me standing in the wreckage of what we were.
Like she didn’t break me.
I slow the four wheeler as we reach the clearing, our clearing. The one we used to swear belonged to us, like the rest of the world couldn’t touch us here.
I kill the engine.
The sudden quiet is deafening.
For a second, neither of us moves. The only sound is the ticking of the cooling motor, rustling of leaves in the wind and the uneven rhythm of my breathing.
Then her hands fall away, a harrowing sensation in their wake.
I stare straight ahead, gripping the handlebars tighter than I need to, the only thing keeping me anchored.
“Why the hell did you leave?” The words come out rough, scraped raw from somewhere deep.
I don’t look at her. I can’t.
Because if I see her face, see even a flicker of the girl I used to know, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold my composure anymore.
Behind me, she inhales. It’s sharp and unsteady.
Like she’s been holding it in just as long as I have.
And just like that, I know—
Whatever she has to say is going to ruin me all over again and…it’s not the right time.
“Forget it. Let’s get back.”
We need to get through the funeral, she has to get through the funeral.
“Collins.” Her voice, soft yet heavy with hurt, pierces through me.
I stand up, turning myself around on the seat and our knees touch.
It’s all I can do not to reach for her. She can sense my turmoil and reaches both of her hands toward me, landing on each of my shoulders.
Inhaling deep, she looks right into my eyes and brings each other thumbs to graze my cheeks.
The contact, this intimate moment…it stops time, and I’m not sure I’m even breathing when she speaks again.
“My heart can only take so much before it gives out. It can’t hold your truth, your answers, and the loss of her. The grief. Not all at the same time.”
I cover her hands with my own, never breaking contact. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Am I, though? Sorry? I want fucking answers.
“Look, this is hard for me, okay? It’s hard balancing my need for knowing with the respect you deserve because of what you’re going through.” It comes out strained, maybe even rougher than I intended.
But she doesn’t look offended.
She actually gives me a slight smile and my heart, the one that’s been through the wringer already, sustains one more bruise.