Fisher's Light(50)

I feel awful. I tore into Fisher at the beach two weeks ago and he had no idea what I was talking about. I blamed him for something he didn’t do and let my anger get the best of me.

“He’s at my house, working on some stuff in the basement,” Trip says casually as he resumes rocking and staring out at the water.

“A little presumptuous of you, don’t you think? What makes you think I care where he is right now?”

Trip just laughs and ignores my question. Of course he knows I care, the man is like a damn mind reader and knows I’m going to feel guilty about what I just learned and want to apologize.

I push myself up casually from the rocking chair, making a show of stretching and acting like I don’t fully intend to hightail it straight to Trip’s house when I step off this porch.

“I think I’ll just check on some paperwork and call it a night. You gonna stay here for a little while?” I ask him casually.

He nods and gives me a wink. “Yep. Think I’ll sit right here for, oh, maybe an hour or two and enjoy your view. It’s the best one on the island. You have fun with your paperwork now, and don’t worry about me.”

Patting him on the shoulder, I turn and head to the sliding door and pull it open. Trip calls to me as I step inside.

“Spare key’s under the welcome mat on the front porch.”

I growl at him and slam the sliding door closed as I stomp through the house.

Irritating, meddling old man.



Pushing open the door to Trip’s house, I hear the soft cadence of music coming from the basement. I recognize the song immediately and my heart beats faster. “Storm” by Lifehouse was a song I played on repeat the first few weeks after Fisher left. I was like a teenage girl with a broken heart, listening to depressing songs while I cried out my pain against my pillow.

“If I could just see you, everything would be alright. If I’d see you, this darkness would turn to light.”

The song speaks of the person you love leaving you to drown, and it was a perfect representation of the loss I felt after Fisher left me. Listening to it back then ripped my already fragile heart into even smaller pieces. Hearing it now takes me back to that time and makes me want to claw at my chest.

I move in a daze, the sound drawing me in like it has a magnetic pull, needing to torture myself further with the softly broken words that haunted my dreams for months. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I pause and stare at the sight in front of me. Fisher, his back to me, is in a pair of tan cargo shorts and a dark blue t-shirt, bent over something he’s working on. The muscles in his arms ripple as he slides a piece of sand paper over the wood, pressing down hard to get it as smooth as possible.

His hands and forearms are covered in dust from the sanding and I think about all the times I’d sit out on our front porch and watch him do the exact same thing, completely in awe of him and the beauty he created with those hands. The same hands that worked tirelessly to make something so beautiful out of an old piece of wood touched me with tenderness and love.

I keep walking towards him, drawn to his body and his presence just like I always have been. My foot bumps against a piece of wood leaning against the wall, knocking it over, and the noise has Fisher’s head jerking up in my direction.

He stares at me in surprise, his eyes traveling over my features, and I wonder what he sees on my face right now. The song is still playing, the words swirling around me, taking me back to a time when I felt lost and alone and needed him. Just…needed him.

“I will get lost into your eyes. I know everything will be alright.”

His brown eyes stare into mine and I think about all the times he looked at me, really looked at me, and saw me with clear eyes, a clear mind and a clear heart, just like he’s doing now. I want to tell him that I have no idea what I’m doing here, that I have no idea what I’m doing with my life and I haven’t since he left. Now that he’s back, I feel even more lost and confused, like I’m twisting and upside down in a wave in the middle of a hurricane. I have no idea which way is up and I can’t seem to find my way to the surface.

Tossing the sandpaper down without a word, Fisher stalks across the room to me, his hands cupping my cheeks and his lips crashing down against mine before I can even blink. His tongue slides past my lips and his body pushes against mine until my back hits the stairwell wall behind me. As soon as his tongue swirls around mine, every thought flies from my mind. I clutch at the front of his shirt and pull him closer, needing more. His thighs and his hips and his stomach press against mine and the weight of his body pushing against me makes it hard to breathe, but I don’t even care. I don’t need air when his breath is in my mouth, giving me life.