These Days Series: After Tuesday | Forgotten Yesterday | Deciding Tomorrow

by Renee Ericson

  I silently choke. “Oh, Brent.”

  He slides my hand to the lower gear and guides my fingers over the letters inscribed there. “Faber est quisque fortunae suae. Every man is the architect of his own fortune.”

  I trace the shapes, the pads of my fingers memorizing the etched words. “Tell me about them sometime?”

  “Of course.”

  Leaning forward, I place my lips near the rotating words while his hands float up my sides and over my ribs, hovering near my naked breasts. Brent kisses the soft space above my collarbone, holding his hands strong and in place, taking things no further.

  Gradually, I lift my gaze to meet his, my fingertips flirting with the skin on his upper arms. We search one another, wordless and gauging, as we let the moment settle in. Apprehension, questions, desire, and so much more are dividing and joining us.

  I wait.

  A beat pulses in my ears.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  I wait to understand—to find out what he’s thinking, what he wants.

  Smoothing his palms down the length of my arms, he nudges forward, kissing me delicately, chastely. Careful not to touch his body to mine, Brent leans in and whispers into my ear, “God, I want you. I’m barely…” His lips nip my earlobe. “I want to take you to my bed.”

  “Then, take me.”

  Without any hesitation, he slides his hands under my ass and lifts me from the cool granite. I hook my legs behind his back, wrap my arms around his neck, and press our bare chests together as he carries me down the hallway to his bedroom. Nerves slightly take hold, knowing what’s to come.

  Last weekend, we came so close to this moment, but it never happened. A one-night stand was all that was expected just a week ago. This is something different. It’s us in our new beginning, and that almost scares me more. What if what we find isn’t what we need or thought? What if what we were is nothing more than a glorified memory set on a pedestal to never be reached?

  It’s a risk worth taking.

  Starlight glimmers through the sliding glass door of the faintly lit bedroom. Brent gently lays me down on the bed and wastes no time as he begins planting his lips across my neck and then between my breasts before landing on my navel. His mouth caresses every detail of my skin as his fingers undo the button at my waist. I thread my hands into his hair as he pulls my pants over my hips to my thighs and releases my legs from the tight-fitting denim. Without taking a breath, he reaches up the length of my legs and removes my panties.

  I am completely disclosed.

  Curling my hands around my middle, I watch Brent watching me.

  He lets out a shaky breath. “You really are flawless.”

  “Come here.”

  Bending between my legs, Brent guides my feet over his shoulders and kisses the space along my inner thigh, starting at my knee and landing right on my sex. His wicked warm, wet tongue slips into me, flirting and dancing through and over my folds, causing my breath to shorten and my legs to tense. One of his hands grips my ass tightly, and the other reaches up, kneading my breast. I arch my back and moan loudly as he devours me, licks me, finds me.

  Grasping his ebony hair with one hand and clawing his back with the other, I pant heavily as the euphoric sensation builds within. Brent slows his tongue, kisses my mound one last time, and then crawls over my needy body.

  “I want to see you,” he says, softly circling the pad of his thumb over my nipple. “Watch you.”

  I nod my head, understanding what he wants, and reach down, hastily unfastening the button to his pants. His fingers tangle in my hair as he takes my mouth with his. I move my hands more feverishly, pushing down his clothing just below his knees. Pulling his lips from mine, Brent removes his pants and boxers from his legs and then joins me again, hovering.

  He hesitates.

  I open my mouth to speak at the same time that he reaches to the side of his bed. He pulls open a drawer and takes a condom in his hand. Apology is written across his features.

  “I’m clean, but I just can’t without it…not like we used to.” His hand drifts between my breasts and continues lower until landing on the space just below my navel. “I can’t do that to you, or go through all of it again if something were to happen.”

  “I can’t either.” I touch my forefinger to his mouth. “I’m clean, too, just so you know.”

  A glimmer of light crosses his features, and his dimple dances. He kisses me quickly before sitting back and prepping himself. Coming back to me, Brent presses his hard-on against the space between my legs, and I seal my lids in anticipation of feeling him inside me once again. I brace myself for him, for us.

  “Open your eyes,” he whispers.

  I do as requested and gaze deeply into the eyes of the only man who has ever really known me—the real me, the person I try to shove away into a realm for no one else to know or see. It’s possible that person is meant only for him.

  Brent reaches down and slowly guides himself into me as I hold my breath while gripping his shoulders.

  I’m watching him watch me.

  The feel of him all over me and inside me is so overwhelming.

  It’s happiness, sadness, completeness…everything all at once.

  “There you are,” he quietly says.

  “You’re here, too.”

  His hands entwine with my own, and we look into one another just like we used to—but not. It’s different. Pain, longing, regret, and loss are all around the edges, but who we are resonates from the fiery hollow within.

  I see it.

  He beams. He sees it, too.

  Never wavering his focus, Brent rocks into me, holding my hands at either side of my head, as I open myself completely, allowing him to bury himself and everything he needs to deep within me. Our unspoken history wails in every movement. Agony hangs in the air, haunting. I take it. The longing, the distance, and the sorrow—they are mine to share with him as well. Every thrust is a release of those moments of grief and hurt from our past.

  He licks his lips. “I missed this.”

  “I really missed you.”

  His lips join mine, kissing me deeply with layers of emotion. I suck on his tongue as he powers into me over and over and over again, faster and harder, freeing the once impenetrable sentiments into the air.

  “Brent,” I cry out.

  “Ruby,” he growls. “What do you do to me?”

  I hook my legs behind his back, pulling him into me as profoundly as possible, and I let out a guttural moan with…

  Every.

  Intentional.

  Heated.

  Thrust!

  The fire inside me burns and explodes into an uncontrollable fury of pleasure. I fall apart in every way. My body is pulsing, beating, as I completely let go while watching the wonderment in Brent’s eyes. We’re stripping away layers of doubt and remorse. He’s filling the pit of vacancy with him, this moment, us.

  Brent slams into me a final time, burying the last bit of shadowing torment.

  He’s digging his way back into me, breathing me in, taking everything that I am.

  He’s doing it, and I love it.

  Six

  Under the warmth of the duvet, wrapped in Brent’s arms, I relax completely in these strange yet familiar surroundings. It’s been a long day full of many discoveries, emotions, and travel. Back in Chicago, the place where my internal clock ticks, it’s almost three o’clock in the morning. The man next to me is nearly asleep, breathing steady into the darkness. I haven’t felt this content in many years.

  “If I haven’t told you already,” Brent says softly against my cheek, “I’m really glad you came out.”

  I nuzzle further into his chest. “I couldn’t imagine not seeing you again.”

  “We have all day tomorrow.” His hand runs along the length of my hair. “Good night, Ruby.”

  “Good night.”

  I kiss the corner of his mouth. He barely reacts, exhausted
.

  In the silent night, Brent’s chest rises and falls in a steady motion, signifying a deep slumber.

  Inhaling deeply, oxygen reaching places long ignored, I fall fast asleep in the arms of the man who is quickly filling a void, all over again.

  ~~~*~~~

  Surrounded by the black pitch, I float in a sea of nothing—no top, no bottom, nothingness. I’m waiting in the constant companion of a comforting darkness. Holding me tight, I’m swaddled in a ubiquitous blanket, like a taught canopy drifting through time, possibly forever.

  It’s my known eternity.

  It’s where I reside.

  The support at my back gives way, gently releasing me like a hand emptying sugar from its palm. I’m plummeting toward an unknown, one that I’m fearlessly drawn to. It’s not a curiosity that pulls but a call within, guiding me forward and assuring the way. I’m falling slowly as if the canopy’s threads are being clipped in a planned symphony.

  Trust. It’s ingrained into my every movement.

  My feet hit a billowy surface, immediately running and slicing through the darkness. Fear does not prompt me. It’s something else. Like breathing, my body just does it. Sight isn’t necessary because my instincts guide me, cutting through the thick molasses of time and space, thinning the air with every step.

  Miles go on.

  Fatigue doesn’t meet me.

  Moments span without relevance.

  Breaths are constant.

  My legs carry me, like they’ve been waiting and storing energy for this trek. I was made to run through this environment. It was designed for me as I was for it.

  It’s of my doing. It’s mine.

  Farther. Faster.

  Picking up speed, I expedite the endless journey. My lungs don’t fail me. My heart remains steady, and I will win, but this isn’t a competition with others. It’s one with myself. Only one winner is meant to be. But who knows how long my feet will need to carry me?

  A tiny light appears above and then another. Pinpricks of sparkle pierce through the hovering blanket. Starlight twinkles, lighting my pursuit through the blackness.

  The ground becomes hard and even, making it easier to tread, and each slapping sound as my feet step one in front of the other is quicker and harder.

  There’s no stopping me and nothing is impossible. I’m on a path where everything feels simple. Having one feels right whereas before I had nothing. My purpose is on this straight and narrow.

  The stars grow brighter, more plentiful, and the moon takes presence, glowing a glorious milky hue. My surroundings come to light. The trail is clear, and the horizon isn’t much farther.

  Instinctually, I push my legs harder, trying to get there—now.

  Something is different at the horizon. Approaching the soft dawn, I slow, intrigued by a dark figure obstructing my destination point.

  “Are you ready?” a voice echoes inside my head.

  My legs, suddenly overworked and boneless, halt their forward motion. I choke on the air escaping my lungs—having pushed myself too hard, too far, and for too long. My body endured the pain, taking it without my knowledge. The precipice of ache has finally been reached.

  “Are you ready?” the voice asks again.

  I circle around, and then I put darkness at my back with my starlit path and the rising sun outlining a silhouette ahead of me. At a slower pace, taking my time, I carry myself toward the orange and yellow hues.

  Five steps and I’m at the edge of the blackness.

  The person separating midnight from dawn is less than a whisper away.

  “Are you ready?” Brent asks, patient and full of promises.

  “For what?”

  “Forever.”

  ~~~*~~~

  My eyes shoot open into the darkened space of the strange room. It takes a few moments, but I soon realize that I’m in Brent’s bed, in California, with his arm draped across my shoulder. Rubbing my forehead, I come out of my subconscious thoughts and into the present.

  Careful not to wake Brent as he sleeps next to me, I peek around him to check the hour. It’s just past six in the morning—eight o’clock, Chicago time. I lie back on the pillow, wide-awake, with my eyes trained on the ceiling and my mind bringing me further into a conscious state.

  Unable to hold still for long because sleep is no longer a possibility, I carefully rise out of bed. The crisp air pricks my bare skin, reminding me that we went to bed nude. Searching for my bag, I spot Brent’s sweatshirt sitting on a nearby chair. Without any hesitation, I slip it over my head and pull it down as far as it will go, barely covering my behind. I make my way to the sliding glass door. Taking one last peek to make sure he’s still asleep, I gently flip the latch and exit onto the balcony.

  The salty, cool air hits my cheeks, awakening my senses and stirring my long brown hair. Above, the soft gray sky indicates that dawn has begun. The rhythmic song being played by the incoming tide coerces a smile upon my face. Shoving my hands in the front pocket of Brent’s sweatshirt adorned with his team logo, I lean against the low wall. The sea appears endless at this time of day, and the horizon is indistinguishable.

  I’m not surprised that Brent is showing up in my dreams. It’s been happening since last weekend. At first, the nightly visions were flush with memories and a nightmare that had once haunted me after we lost the baby. Since then, my inner voice has been telling me other things—comforting things about Brent and me, just as it did now. I’ve always believed that dreams are the strongest voice of one’s heart, and mine have been screaming for him all week. Surely, it’s a huge reason why coming here on a whim felt so urgent. Now that I’ve let him back in, he’s constantly on my mind.

  The colors within the water become clearer, and the horizon line is more defined with the passing of time. The wind whips, erupting a small chill upon my exposed skin. It feels refreshing. Everything about being here right now makes me feel alive.

  The door slides open, startling me from my inner thoughts. Brent steps onto the balcony, barefoot and adorned only in his boxers. The dim natural light shadows and outlines every muscle along his stomach, arms, legs—ah hell, every sexy piece of him.

  “Hey,” Brent says, his voice thick with sleep. He scratches the back of his head. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I turn around, fully facing him. “Just couldn’t sleep is all.”

  “Bad dream?” he cautiously asks, joining me.

  It’s a fair question. He was there the last time I was struck with the dream that had driven a stake between my heart and him. It had haunted my nights and my mind for some time, and last weekend, it appeared when he came back into my life. Everything about him and us hit me all at once, and this included all the bad memories.

  “No,” I reply, shifting my feet, “not at all.”

  “You sure?” he asks, wrapping his hands behind my back.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. It was a good dream.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay.” His hands run along my back. “You can tell me anything.”

  “I know. I promised to be honest with you, and I will be.” My fingertips walk up from his naked, firm stomach to his chest. “I hope you know you can share anything with me as well.” I measure the concern on his face. “Is something on your mind?”

  “Other than sleep? Not really. I am a little worried about you though. About what happened.” His thumbs gently caress my abdomen. “When I left and went overseas, I wish…I should have been there for you. I thought you would be okay. You always—”

  “I was.” I cover his hand resting at my middle. “Not right away, but I was. And I am.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it. The nightmare—”

  “Went away—”

  “But it came back.”

  “Coincidence.” I capture both of his hands in mine. “I’m okay. Honest.”

  “Are you?” he tentatively questions.

  “Yes. Last weekend, the
dream, I was just as surprised as you were. It went away years ago.”

  “But—”

  “Please don’t feel guilty or feel like you did anything wrong. Those were painfully cruel days for both of us.”

  He opens his mouth to speak and then quickly closes it.

  “It was,” I continue. “I’ve come to terms with losing the baby. I’ve said my good-byes, and time healed the rest.”

  His hand lightly grazes the place where our baby once grew, staring at my middle. “You sure?”

  “Yes,” I utter softly. Pressing his hand to my middle, I encourage him to hold the space. “Did you ever say good-bye?”

  “No, I don’t think I did.” His eyes rise to meet mine, his hand still on my stomach. “I don’t think I ever said good-bye to you.”

  “That’s not—”

  “I know what you meant.” His fingers curl into my flesh. “I did say good-bye to the baby. I wanted it, too, but you…I don’t think I ever said good-bye to you.”

  “Brent…”

  “It’s okay. I don’t think I ever could anyhow.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  I bite my lip, feeling his palpable regret in the air. Brent tucks a strand of hair, flying in the breeze, behind my ear and out of my face.

  “And you’re wrong by the way,” he says softly.

  “About what?”

  “Time—it doesn’t heal everything.” He leads my hand to his heart. “Trust me.”

  “No, I guess it doesn’t,” I choke out, trying not to tear up.

  He wraps his arms around my neck. “I’m going to fix you,” he softly promises in my ear. “You tell me you’re okay, and I believe you, but that’s all you are. You’ve always been brave, and you’re a survivor, but you aren’t living like you can, like I know you can.”

  “Maybe,” I say, “it’s because I can only truly live with you in my life.”

  “I know it’s the only way I can live.” His hand moves down the length of my back. “I didn’t realize how empty I was until last weekend. It was like nothing made any sense because we already made our choices, but all I wanted to do was see you.”