While I Was Away(60)

“Except when I was away,” she corrected him. He paused his movements, then sighed.

“Except when you were in your coma, yes. I didn't know very many people, I spent a lot of my days off with my patients,” he said.

Adele could feel the wall he was trying so hard to erect between them, and she didn't want to encourage it. So she smiled brightly at him and stepped way from the painting.

“Well, I hope there's some hot water left! After that eight hour car ride earlier, I feel disgusting,” she laughed cheerfully as she scurried into the bathroom.

“I left a t-shirt and some sweats in there,” he told her. “Towels are above the toilet. Holler if you need anything.”

“You” almost came out of her mouth, but thankfully she stopped herself. She just kept smiling and nodding like an idiot, then she shut the door between them.

What was she doing!? It wasn't like she'd never seen a naked male chest before – jesus, she'd dated Charlie for three years, lived with him for most of that time, and he'd always been in great shape. She'd had other boyfriends, slept with other men. It shouldn't have been a big deal.

Of course, this was no ordinary torso, as silly as that sounded – this was Jones' body she was talking about, it was almost sacred. This was the romance of a lifetime. This was foreplay on an epic level. This was ...

More than I can handle. Screw the hot water, I hope there's plenty of cold water.

Adele stood under the spray for a long time. She wanted to give Jones his space. She felt like any conversation that happened right now would be useless, he'd just keep fighting her. Maybe tomorrow would be better. She had to hope so, there'd been so much promise earlier in the night. She couldn't give up, not now.

But what if I keep trying, and I push him away completely? It will be so much worse, knowing he's out there and knowing he's real and knowing that deep down, everything I felt between us was real, and he could've felt it, too. That would be absolute torture.

Even after she got out of the shower, Adele moved slowly. She stood naked and dripping, staring down at his clothes. Part of her didn't want to touch them. Knew she'd be overwhelmed by them. But then she picked up the shirt anyway and buried her face in it.

God, his smell. It brought tears to her eyes. She'd spent so much time next to him and around him, hugging him, holding his hand. Playing, laughing, talking. Until her dying day, she'd never forget his scent. Would probably remember it even beyond death. Beyond into eternity.

She finally pulled the shirt on, only hugging the material to herself for a moment before moving on. She slipped into his sweatpants – they were gigantic on her, she had to hold them at the waistline when she eventually left the bathroom.

It was almost eleven by then, so she wasn't surprised to see him stretched out on the floor. He'd made a makeshift bed out of a sleeping bag and some random pillows. His back was to her as she made her way across the room, and she couldn't quite tell if he was sleeping or not. She felt like he was awake, but avoiding her, so she didn't say anything. Just climbed onto the old bed and snuggled under the covers.

His smell wasn't on the bedding, thankfully, and she was able to settle in. He had lit up the fireplace, though, and pretty soon she was boiling under the heavy blankets. Figuring he wouldn't even notice, she kicked off the sweatpants and shoved them to the end of the bed. She could wiggle back into them in the morning.

Then she turned onto her side and watched him. Wondered what he was thinking. If he was sleeping, then he was probably dreaming. What did he dream out? Did she ever make an appearance? Her eyes grew heavier and heavier, the heat making her sleepy.

Funny, I never thought to ask before. The whole time I was dreaming about Jones, what was he dreaming about?





28




She was back on the beach. Their beach. The sun was even lower, beyond twilight. A few more minutes and it would be proper night time.

Adele didn't care. She strode across the sand, confident she could reach the shore this time. The sun fizzled and hissed as it dipped beneath the ocean's horizon, sometimes sending sparks flying through the sky.

I miss this place.

When she hit the water, she didn't stop. She just slowed enough to carefully turn in a circle. Sand stretched on endlessly in every direction away from the water, and there was no sign of anything, or anyone, else.

No sign of Jones.

She heaved a deep sigh and kept striding deeper. Waves broke against her shins, then her knees. Finally her thighs. She worked her way out of her sweater, then dropped it into the water. The current swiftly carried it off and it was gone from sight almost before she could blink.

Did I ever blink while I was here before?

When the water was up to her chest, her feet lost purchase. The ocean took control, lifting her and dragging her farther out to sea. She turned as she floated, watching the beach while she drifted farther and farther away. There wasn't a soul to be seen. The sun was going down, the water was growing cold, and soon it would be dark, and she was all alone.

“Just know that while you were here, you were never alone.”

But out there, she was always alone.

As the ocean extinguished the last rays of the sun, she slipped under the waves. Felt the current dragging her down, down, down, into blackness. And she wasn't scared. Not one little bit.