Collins
NOW
The moment the words leave my mouth, regret crashes over me.
I see it happen in real time, the way my sentence seems to travel straight across the space between us and pierce through every barrier she’s put in place to keep any pain away.
Her shoulders curl inward, as if the weight of my words press down on her.
Every tear she’s shed today has carved into me like a blade, but the ones slipping silently down her cheeks now…
these are the worst of all. They hollow something deep in me.
I never want to be the reason she hurts.
Never want to watch pain take hold of her like this.
And yet, here she sits, breaking open in front of me, while all I can do is feel my own heart fracture.
Whatever it is she believes she deserves punishment for, whatever burdens she’s been carrying alone. It’s obvious the raw ache has been eating at her for years. It’s written plainly across her face. Her expression is tight, hands nearly trembling.
I can’t sit across from her another second.
Pushing up from the chair, I cross the short distance between us and kneel beside her. Face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, I put my hands on top of her knees, grasping at anything to comfort her.
“Whatever it is…” I say softly. “Whatever you’re carrying…give it to me.”
My hand hovers for a moment before gently pulling one of hers away from her face. Her fingers are cold when they slide into my palm.
“We’re in this together,” I continue, squeezing her hand lightly. “You don’t have to hold it all by yourself anymore. Let me help you shoulder the weight of it. Please.”
She shakes her head faintly, like the idea alone scares her.
“I know you’re afraid,” I say, leaning closer so she can’t miss the certainty in my voice. “But I’m never going to leave.”
It’s a promise.
“I told myself years ago that if the day ever came when you found your way back to me…it meant something. It meant you were always supposed to be here. And if that happened”—I give her hand another gentle squeeze—“I’d never let you go again.”
A faint, broken breath escapes her.
“You don’t want me breaking promises to myself now, do you?”
For the first time since she started crying, she lifts her head. Her eyes are glassy and swollen, lashes clumped with tears, but there’s the faintest flicker of something there—something softer than the pain.
“Come on,” I say quietly, standing and tugging gently on her hand. “Let’s go watch the rest of the sunset from the dock.”
She rises slowly, unsteady on her feet, and before I can even offer, her arm wraps around my waist. The gesture is instinctive, like she needs the contact just to stay upright. I don’t say a word about it. I simply slide my arm around her shoulders and guide her with me.
Grabbing the blanket I’d draped over the chair earlier, just in case the evening air turned too cool, I shake it open and settle it around her shoulders once we step off the patio. She clutches the edges close as we walk, leaning into my side while we make our way down the path toward the water.
The last golden sliver of sun sinks slowly toward the horizon. The kind of sunset that usually feels peaceful. Tonight, it feels heavy.
We sit at the end of the wooden dock, our feet dangling just above the quiet water as the day finally slips away. I don’t push the conversation further. I can feel how drained she is, how the weight of everything she’s revealed today has wrung her dry. Asking for more would be cruel.
So instead, we sit in silence.
Crickets begin chirping in the tall grass, frogs calling to one another. The breeze coming off the lake grows cooler as the light fades, brushing across the water and carrying a sharp bite.
Beside me, she shivers.
Without thinking, I pull her a little closer, tightening my arm around her shoulders beneath the blanket. I hope that somehow, in some small way, I can make the world feel lighter for her tonight.
“Come on,” I say, pushing to my feet. “Time for bed.”
I crouch down in front of her, lowering myself until we’re eye level. Turning slightly, I pat my shoulder. “Hop on.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Johnnie rises slowly from the dock and climbs onto my back as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Her arms slide around my shoulders and her weight settles against me.
I hook my arms under her legs and stand, adjusting her easily against me.
For a moment, she rests her cheek against my shoulder blade, breath warm through the thin fabric of my shirt. The contact feels intimate.
The walk back to the house is slow and steady.
The grass squishy beneath my boots, we make our way up the path from the dock, the night air cooler now that the sun has completely disappeared behind the horizon.
The sounds of a crisp fall evening follow us all the way up the yard, filling the silence between us.
When we reach the patio, I shift her weight slightly and manage to turn off the heat lamps and fireplace, then open the door with one hand. The house greets us with a soft rush of warmth as the heat kicks on, the vents humming quietly somewhere in the walls.
The stairs are still new. Fresh wood from the recent remodel, smooth beneath my feet as I carry her up toward the second floor. She stays quiet on my back, her arms loosely looped around my shoulders, her fingers occasionally tightening in the fabric of my shirt.
At the top of the stairs, I turn down the hall and push open the door to my bedroom. The space opens up around us, wide and quiet. The large king-size bed is sitting untouched in the center of the room, the dark comforter smooth and unwrinkled. But I walk right past it.
Instead, I carry her straight into the bathroom.
I step inside and lower her gently onto the edge of the oversized bathtub. She watches me with tired eyes.
I reach over and turn on the faucet, letting the water rush out in a steady stream as the tub begins to fill.
Then I grab the bottle of bubble bath from the counter and pour a generous amount beneath the running water.
My brothers roast me for having this girly shit but I stand by it, no regrets.
After a long day, this tub filled with scalding water and bubbles is something my muscles thank me for. And look at it coming in handy now.
Within seconds, soft white foam begins to bloom across the surface. The scent of lavender slowly fills the room, warm and soothing.
From the closet beside the bathroom, I grab a thick towel and place it on the edge of the counter within her reach.
“Want me to refill your wineglass and bring it back up?” I ask gently.
She looks up at me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, something defeated lingering in them. After a moment, she gives a small nod.
That’s all the answer I need.
Leaning down, I press a quick, gentle kiss to the top of her head before stepping away. “I’ll be right back.”
Standing in the kitchen, I pause for a moment, resting my hands against the counter as I reach for the bottle of wine. The house is quiet except for the faint sound of water still running upstairs.
And somehow…it feels different tonight.
Warmer.
More alive.
Knowing Johnnie is upstairs makes this place feel more like a home than it ever has since I moved in.
I glance around the kitchen as I pour the wine into her glass. I’ve never brought another woman here. Not once.
The realization settles over me. Sure, I’ve had hookups over the years.
Nights that blurred together, faces that never stayed long enough to matter, but never here.
Never in this house. Something about it always felt too personal.
Too permanent. Like letting someone through that door meant letting them into something deeper than I was ready to share.
Maybe I’ve been holding onto something all along without even realizing it.
Holding onto the idea that if anyone ever belonged here…
It would be her.
I finish filling the glass and set the bottle back on the counter. One by one, I switch off the lights downstairs until the house settles into a quiet nighttime glow.
Then I head back upstairs.
When I reach the bedroom again, the bathroom door is still open. The soft sound of running water spills into the room.
From the doorway, I can see the back of Johnnie’s head resting against the edge of the tub, her hair gathered loosely as the water continues to rise around her.
I knock lightly on the doorframe so I don’t startle her.
She turns toward the sound, slowly opening her eyes.
I lift the wineglass slightly in my hand, silently asking permission to come in.
A faint, sad smile touches her lips as she gestures for me to enter.
I step inside and place the glass carefully on the ledge beside the tub.
The bubbles have already risen high enough to cover her, soft foam drifting across the surface of the water so that nothing too personal can be seen—just the faint outline of her shoulders. For the first time all day, she looks somewhat peaceful.
“Thank you for being the best person I’ve ever known, Collins.” Her voice is quiet, almost fragile.
“You give me too much credit, Johnnie.”
I try brushing it off the way I always do when she looks at me like that—like I’m something better than I really am. Turning toward the door, I start to step out, wanting to give her some privacy, but her voice stops me just before I reach the frame.
“Do me one favor?”
I pause, then slowly turn back toward her.
She’s already rising from the tub, water sliding down her skin in shimmering rivulets, bubbles slipping away and trailing down her body. The light catches on her skin, the overhead fixture reflecting softly across every curve.
For a moment, I forget how to breathe.
There she stands.
Completely exposed, the sadness in her eyes leaving me the most undone.
Still…I’m only human.
My eyes betray me, lingering longer than they should, noticing the way the cool air has drawn tight goose bumps across her skin. I drag my gaze back to her face.
“Please,” she says quietly. “Just once.”
Her arms hang loosely at her sides, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that she’s standing there naked in front of me.
“Before I tell you everything…I want at least one more night with you.”
The words deliver like a punch to my gut.
“In case you hate me after.”
It’s like she’s already bracing for the moment I walk away. And I hate it. I refuse to believe the truth she’s been carrying will destroy whatever we’ve managed to rebuild between us.
I still don’t have the right words. Nothing that could possibly convince her that hating her has never once been an option for me.
But I don’t hesitate.
My feet move before my thoughts can catch up, closing the space between us in long, determined strides. Every step carries one clear intention.
If tonight is what she needs, then I’ll give her exactly what she’s asking for.