A Stone in the Sea(107)

But with Ben? There had always been something missing. Something significant.

That flame.

The spark that lights you up inside when the one walks into the room. You know the one, the one you can’t get off your mind, whether you’ve known him your entire life or he just barreled into it.

Was it wrong I craved someone like that for myself?

Maybe I’d be content with Ben if I’d never felt the flame before. If I’d never known what it was like to need and desire.

But I had. It’d been the kind of fire that had raged and consumed, burning through me until there was nothing left but ashes. I’d thought that love had ruined me, until Ben came in and swept me into his willing arms.

He’d taken care of me, a fact I didn’t take lightly. I honored and respected it, the way Ben honored and respected me.

So maybe I never looked the same or felt the same after he’d destroyed something inside of me. But I’d survived and I forced myself to find satisfaction in that, willed it to make me stronger instead of feeble and frail.

I tossed a bottle of shampoo I really didn’t need into my cart, but it smelled all kinds of good, like vanilla and the sweetest flower, and today I didn’t feel like questioning my motives. In fact, I tossed in a body wash for good measure. I rarely treated myself, and I figured I deserved it. The last four years had been spent working my ass off, striving toward my elementary education degree at Arizona State University, and I’d finally landed my first real job a month ago.

Pride shimmered around my consciousness. Not the arrogant kind. I was just…happy. Happy for what I had achieved.

I bit the inside of my lip, doing my best to contain the ridiculous grin I felt pulling at my mouth.

Finally….finally…I’d attained something that was all on me.

Ben was always the one who took care of me. But he also had a bad habit of taking all the credit. Like my life would fall apart without him in it.

Slowly, I wound my way up toward the registers. I needed to get out of here before I drained what little I had in my checking account with all my celebrating.

I rolled my eyes at myself and squashed the mocking laughter that rolled up my throat.

Yep, livin’ large and partying hard.

My life was about as exciting as Friday Night Bingo at the retirement home down the street.

But hey, at least my hair would smell good and my lips would taste even better.

Scanning the registers, I hunted for the shortest line, when my eyes locked on a face that was so familiar, but just out of reach of my recognition. Curiosity consumed me, and I found I couldn’t look away.

She was standing at the front of her cart, her attention cast behind her. Obviously, searching for someone.

I stared, unabashed, craning my head to the side as I tried to place the striking green eyes and long black hair. She was gorgeous, enough to make any super model feel self-conscious, but she was wearing the kind of smile that spoke a thousand welcomes.

Two feet in front of her, I came to a standstill, which only caused her warm smile to spread when her gaze landed on me. My attention flitted to the empty infant car seat that was latched onto the basket before it darted back to her face. My stomach twisted into the tightest knot as recognition slammed me somewhere in my subconscious, my throat growing dry when her name formed in my head before it swelled on my tongue. “Aly Moore?” I managed, everything about the question timid and unsure. Well, I wasn’t unsure it was her. There was no question, no doubt.

What I wasn’t so sure about was if I should actually stop to talk to her. My heart was already beating a million miles a minute, like a stampeding warning crashing through my body, screaming at my limbs to go and go now.

Still, I couldn’t move. Short gusts of sorrow were a feeling I was well-accustomed to, dealing with Stewart and all the sadness his illness brought into my life.

But this?

Pain constricted my chest, pressing and pulsing in, and I struggled to find my absent breath.

God, she looked just like him. I always did my best to keep him from my thoughts, all the memories of him buried deep, deep enough to pretend they’d forever been forgotten, when in reality, everything I’d ever shared with him was unrelentingly vivid.

Seeing her brought them all flooding back.

His face.

His touch.

I squeezed my eyes, trying to block them out, but they only flashed brighter.

God.

“Samantha Schultz.” My name tumbled from her mouth as if it came with some kind of relief. She stretched out her hand, grasping mine. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it’s you. How are you?”

I hadn’t seen her in years. Seven, to be exact. She was only two years younger than me, and she'd always been a sweet girl. Sweet and smart. Different in a good way, quiet and shy and bold at the same time. I’d always liked her, and some foolish part of me had believed she’d always be a part of my life. I guess I’d taken that for granted, too.