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And above all else, I know I should move. Should jump up, apologize and run away, but I just can’t because even with all the reasons this is such a bad idea, it still feels so fucking good to be cherished—even if it’s fleeting.
So instead, I keep my eyes closed, my breathing relaxed and just take in the moment. The feeling of his soft t-shirt against my cheek and hand. His muscular arm wrapped around my back, keeping me tethered tightly to his body. His legs tangled with mine, the material of his sweatpants soft against my bare legs.
In our church, we have a saying. Peace isn’t found in the absence of a storm. It’s found in the presence of God. I used to think that was true, but now, here with him, like this, perfectly content to just exist in this moment, in our bodies, in our minds, exactly as they are, I know it’s not.
Peace isn’t found, it’s accepted. Peace exists all around us, all the time. But you have to close your eyes and let it in. Sometimes, it’s the quiet moments that speak the loudest. Sometimes, it’s the quiet moments that make you feel the most alive.
His fingers shift, moving to gently detangle a new section and I smile against him. He pauses for a brief second, letting me know he felt it, then continues on without a word.
In the utter contentment bathed around us, a quiet song builds in my chest. I hum the words that are so familiar, so precious they’re reserved for moments like this.
You Are My Sunshine, was Mama’s song for me. She sang or hummed it almost every day, even when I was a teenager, grumbling about not being a baby anymore, but I never meant it. Never wanted her to stop. Never wanted the song to end.
Until it did.
Roman’s body stiffens, and he sucks in a quiet breath. “Goddamn, I missed that sound.”
I swallow thickly and blink back tears I didn’t know had built. I sniffle into his shirt, trying to hide the way my heart throbs so deeply. For Mama. For Daddy. For Roman. Maybe even for Isaac, who’s not here to dry my tears like he has so many times before.
Roman shifts our bodies, flipping us so I’m beneath him. My hands fly up, gripping his hips to steady myself, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut, afraid of what I’ll see.
His calloused fingers are gentle as they coast along my cheek, wiping the tears away. His thumb ghosts over my cheekbone, my jaw, my eyes, as if he’s exploring. Relearning the face he once knew so well.
I feel him pause over my freckles, spending extra time there and I have a sudden need to see his expression. My eyes are slow to open and when they do, it’s not the same dimpled smile he used to get whenever he counted my freckles. He’s not smiling at all.
His eyes are heavy with emotion, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly as his gaze flits all over my face. His thumb is still exploring and every pass, every inch he discovers, has my body lighting up as though I’ve never been touched before.
I bite my lip, my heart racing between us. My hands tighten around his lean hips, digging into his shirt until it gives way, and then suddenly, I’m gripping his skin instead.
His thumb slides across my jaw as his body settles between my thighs, heavy and oh so welcome. He tugs my lip from between my teeth, clicking his tongue when he takes in the deep grooves there.
“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “I can’t stand to see you hurt.”
But you are hurting me.
I want to say the words, but I choke them back. I want to tell him that for years, he’s been the one breaking me. When he was here, when he was gone. He always leaves me shattered, and he does it so easily.
I want to say it but I can’t, so instead, I say the only thing I can. The only thing that makes any sense to me right now as emotions build and build and build…
“Ro,” I breathe, confusion and lust lacing the single syllable. I’m so lost, so unprepared for this, that I feel like I’m swimming through molasses, trying to find which direction is up, but I can’t. I can barely breathe.
His thumb slips between my lips, and my tongue flicks out, licking the pad. “Goldie,” he chokes out, his voice breaking.
The name.
His name for me—the one that melts my heart and ignites my soul all at once. That one word and all the walls come tumbling down, laying in broken chunks of devastation and reckless abandon on the living room floor around us.
I don’t know who moves first, but then, his lips are on mine. Hard, demanding, as if he can’t possibly hold himself back, yet soft and coaxing, like he’s trying to keep me here, knowing I’m liable to panic.
Roman groans into my mouth, the sound deep and rumbling against my chest as his fingers sink into my hair. Mine grip his body tighter, my tiny fists unyielding, refusing to let go.
I can’t let go. I can’t.
As if he can sense the unspoken words chanting through my mind, his rough hands tug my head back, deepening the kiss until a needy moan rips from my soul. A guttural sound leaves him, one as desperate as mine.
My hips tip up, grinding against the solid length between us. The world melts away with his mouth on mine, his body a heavy, reassuring weight.
Finally, a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind. Finally, he’s back. My Roman is back. He’s back. He’s b—
