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"You okay?" I asked, turning to Axel when he walked up next to us. His shoulders were back, his face less pale.
Whatever he'd said to his father, he felt better for having done it.
"Yeah, Mommy. I'm good." I hugged him to my side, sniffling in his hair once before I forced it down.
"Let's go get that ice cream then," I whispered, standing up and holding out a hand for Axel to take. As my eyes settled on the area behind him, a shadow moved through the trees at the edge of the cemetery grounds. There one minute and gone the next. I smiled, thinking of the shadow who’d saved me.
Shadows couldn’t exist without light.
We were slower to walk the route back to the car with Ines walking along beside us with her little legs. Where Axel was tall like his father, she'd gotten my petite build, so it felt like it took us hours to make the trip.
It didn't matter though, because with my kids on either side of me, I held my entire world in my hands.
I could survive anything if it meant giving them the best life possible.
Even being alone.
???
I set my book down with a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. It was late enough that there was little to no choice. Turning the light off as I stood, I made my way to the stairs with nothing but the light from the streetlamps streaming in the windows. My fingers trailed over Chad’s favored recliner as I passed, a gentle reminder that nobody had touched it in a year. Nobody dared to sit in the supple leather, although it was easily the most comfortable spot in the cozy living room. Nobody wanted to displace him from our lives.
But as I peeked inside each of the kids’ bedrooms, stalling however I could, the thought sounded ridiculous even in the privacy of my mind.
Chad was dead.
He’d been dead, and nothing would ever change that. Still, I couldn’t erase the memory of him falling asleep in the chair with Axel in his arms when he’d been a baby. I couldn’t erase the vision of him perching
on the edge every morning as he pulled on his black boots.
Nobody would ever sit in that chair again, and I couldn’t live in a mausoleum. I’d have my dad help me put it on the curb over the weekend.
As I made my way into our bedroom, I stared at the massive king bed. Releasing a sigh with a sad smile, I made my way over to it. It was too big to be empty. Too big for just me.
Climbing on top of the covers on my side of the bed, I tried to will away the tension in my body. There was nothing I wanted more than to relax and just fade to sleep, but even lonely widows had needs.
Needs that went unmet with two children to think of and not wanting a relationship.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment, wishing the need away. Reading romance novels never helped my situation, but for a few moments of my day, it was nice to get lost in a world where things like true love existed.
It was nice to read about happily ever afters for couples who deserved them, for women who could let themselves be vulnerable enough to love. To read about men who would do anything for their women.
With a glance at the closed door, I let my fingers touch the tops of my thighs. They were too soft, too delicate as they slid my nightgown up to my hips. I didn’t look down as I slid my hand inside my underwear, clenching my eyes tight to dispel the reality that it was my fingers that touched me. My own fingers that slid through the wetness that lingered despite my crushing loneliness. Two fingers at my clit, circling gently as my eyes clenched tighter. Shadows permeated the haze of my vision, feeling like they never left. Like my shadows were everywhere, lurking just beyond view.
My back arched as the heat of pleasure consumed me, as the building orgasm rose to my well-practiced and efficient movements.
But even with the way I knew my body so well, there was only one thing that could ever send me tumbling over the edge of oblivion. The guilt I felt with the vision never lessened, not even with all the time that had passed.
Vivid blue eyes shone through the haze of darkness inside my head, drawing a gasp from me as my back arched further and my fingers slowed to coax the last tingles of my release from my body before guilt overwhelmed me.
Vaulting myself off the bed, I made for the bathroom with guilt pulsing through my body.
It wasn’t my husband’s memory that got me off. Not ever.
But a shadowed stranger with blue eyes that I had no business thinking about.
The shower called to me, to the dirty feeling that crawled along my skin.
Just like always.
