“I take the pills for pain caused by a car accident I was in about a year and a half ago,” I finally admit. My heart begins beating a little faster as I remember the accident.
“And you still take them?” His brows furrow and he looks at me skeptically.
“No. Well, I didn’t. I just started again.” I look away from him and fix my eyes on a large floor vase full of long, bare branches. I’m ashamed to admit I use pills to deal with the mental pain I’m in, no longer the physical pain from the accident.
“How serious was the accident?” He shifts, causing his body to move a little closer into me.
“It was bad. I broke my leg, my future sister-in-law broke her pelvis, and she ended up losing a pregnancy because of the accident,” I tell him quietly. “I was driving; it was my fault.”
“Accidents happen all the time, Lindsay. It was an accident. You can’t blame yourself.”
“But I do. I shouldn’t have been driving in that storm. I should have turned around, but I was trying to get Reagan to the airport. It just came up on us so quickly and I swerved to avoid a tree in the road and over corrected. I’m not even sure how many times the car rolled; they think three or four. I’ll never forget hearing Reagan’s sobs and thinking she might not survive,” I choke out. A chill runs through me when I think about that afternoon.
“Reagan is your future sister-in-law?”
I nod my head. The lump that has formed in my throat won’t allow me to speak.
“Come here.” He leans back into the arm of the couch and turns toward me with open arms—an invitation that I’m hesitant of. “It’s just a hug, Lindsay.” His small, concerned smile tells me he’s being genuine and, without a second thought, I crawl into his arms and settle in. While his unfamiliar arms wrap around me, I finally let go of all the anger, the sadness, the confusion, and the heartache I’ve been holding onto.
I wake up with a kink in my neck and warm arms wrapped around me. I fell asleep in the arms of another man. Innocent, but feeling guilty, I unwrap myself from his body and push myself off the couch, stumbling across the living room and into my bedroom.
I peel off the leather pants that are stuck to my legs and pull my tank top over my head, tossing both of them into a pile on the floor. I kick them aside as I saunter into the bathroom and turn on the shower—even though the water is on cold, it’s scalding hot, a side effect of the scorching Phoenix temperatures I’ve quickly learned.
The hot water pricks at my skin and my tense muscles finally begin to relax. Steam billows from the shower and fills the air—a light cloud enveloping me. I scrub my body, hoping the water will wash away the ache inside of me. My head pounds from the drinks and crying myself to sleep last night, but nothing hurts as much as my heart.#p#分页标题#e#
Slipping into a pair of cotton lounge pants and a loose t-shirt, I run a comb through my tangled mess of blonde hair. My blue eyes are lacking spark; they’re lifeless, just how I feel. I make a mental note of how I look and plan to make a greater effort to take care of myself—on the outside. A knock on my door pulls me away from my self-loathing.
“Come in,” I murmur. The door swings open and Jonah peeks in. A smile spreads across his face. His smile is infectious and his brown eyes bright. His morning hair is a tousled mess, but it fits his personality.
“I made coffee,” he stammers.
“Exactly what I need. I’ll be right out.” He shuts the door and I pick up the pile of clothes I left lying in the center of the floor. I catch a glimpse of a pill bottle on my nightstand and quickly move to hide the bottle in the drawer, but before I do, I toss two in my mouth. I’ve become an expert at swallowing pills with a dry mouth. I hear Jonah rustling around out in the kitchen, so I tuck the bottle of pills away under a sleep mask and decide to face Jonah for coffee.
I find Jonah standing at my kitchen island, all Adonis-like. His tan skin glows against his dirty blond hair and brown eyes. This is the first time I’ve noticed him in a way other than my pesky college student neighbor. He looks older than twenty-four and his looks are out of place in Phoenix. He definitely belongs on a beach with a surfboard. He smiles when he catches me watching him, and I’m slightly embarrassed he caught me. I blush and head for the island, where a cup of coffee waits for me.
“Hmmm…” I growl when the black liquid hits my tongue. There is nothing like the feeling of hot coffee sliding down your throat, when you can feel it travel from your throat to your belly, finally settling into your veins, where it delivers that first kick of caffeine your body craves. It’s intense… and I love the first sip of coffee every morning.