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.