My mind begins to float, to a dreamy place, as his fingers stroke that special spot I didn’t know existed. I kiss him like my life depends on it, like I might die if I stop and, after a few minutes of this exquisite torture, I explode into a wave of insane ecstasy. His other hand tangles up in my hair, pulling my head up to meet his fevered kisses, like he can’t get enough of me either. I don’t want him to stop. Ever. My entire body quivers and shakes, and he continues to kiss me as I cling to him, afraid of what this feeling is doing to me, that I may never recover. As the euphoria of that moment subsides, a shudder overcomes me, and I start to cry uncontrollably into his chest.

He tugs the magic blanket up over us and pulls me into an embrace. “It’s okay,” he soothes, kissing me whispery soft, stroking my cheek. “You’re okay.” He tilts my head up again to look into my eyes. “I’m right here with you, everything’s okay,” he says softly.

I continue to sob, without any comprehensible reason, and hang on to him for dear life. I’m petrified. I’m exhausted. I feel as if some massive energy just possessed me, stirred up every fear, every wish, every pain, every desire, every memory…and swept it all into a ball and forced me to swallow it, digest it, and then cough it out.

I feel reborn.

My body and mind sink into an utterly exhausted jelly-like mode, and I drift off to sleep in his arms.

When I wake, he’s asleep, his arms still around me. His body is warm and comforting against mine, and for maybe the hundredth time, I feel the deep pull of never wanting to leave him. I kiss his cheek, and he opens his eyes.

“Hey,” he says, pulling me even closer.

“Hey.”

“You okay, sugar?”

I nod and move my hand slowly across his chest, over the deep, healed gashes. “I’m sorry I cried…” I say, hoping I didn’t ruin another moment between us. “I’m not sure…”

His hand moves up to caress the back of my head. “Don’t apologize. It’s normal.”

“It is?”

“Yup. I read about it. It’s like a release of feelings.”

Yes. That’s exactly what it felt like.

“Everything is good, Holly. I told you we’d get through everything together, and I meant it.”

I lean up on my arm so I can see his face better. “I’m so lucky to have you,” I say softly, loving how his eyes change color as I talk.

“I’m the lucky one.” He pulls me down to meet his lips, and that special place between my thighs starts to quiver again.

He makes us tea and toast, and then we take Boomer and Poppy for a walk to the river. We hold hands, and he stops every so often to pull me into his arms, backing me up against the nearest tree to kiss me.

“I’ve never seen you look so happy,” I comment as we walk.

He takes a moment to reply, then glances at me sideways. “It’s been a long time.”

“I know the feeling.”

He winks at me. “I know you do.”

On our walk back to the house, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out to see a text from Feather.

Feather: Hi…where are you?

Holly: Walking the dogs with Tyler

Feather: Steve and I are doing dinner and a movie tonight in town. You two want to come? I thought a double date would be fun and we could get to know Ty.

Holly: Ooh I’m not sure

Feather: Come on! It will be fun. It’s just us.

And everyone in the restaurant. And the theater.

Holly: Let me ask him

I look up to find Ty leaning against a tree, smoking, looking all rough and sexy and so…just perfect.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“It was a text from Feather.”

He flicks some ashes onto the ground. “Everything okay?”

“She and her boyfriend are going to dinner and a movie tonight. She wants to know if we want go too.”

He takes a long drag on his cigarette, holds it in his lungs for an extended amount of time, then exhales. His eyes, crystal blue a few minutes ago, darken as he stares off into the trees, then takes another aggressive drag on the cigarette. His mouth opens, but no words come. Instead he puts the cigarette to his mouth again, and lets it hang from his lips, its smoke billowing up into his face as he hangs his head down, his hair falling over his face, perfectly trained to hide him.

I see the retreat, the abandoned smile, the door closing. His discomfort is palpable, and such a mirror to my own.

I wish Feather had suggested we all meet at our apartment, in private, instead.

“Holly…” He kicks at a rock with his shoe.

“I don’t think I want to go out,” I say, saving him from having to say it. I think we both see the same scenario in our heads: people staring, whispering, and asking questions. Feather and Steve being put in that same awkward space with us. A double date sounds like fun, but that doesn’t seem like the best way for all of us to get to know each other first.