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Every word she speaks reaches the deep trenches of my soul. I work hard, I love my family, but I mainly see in black-and-white. Solia’s story and emotion resonate in a way that startles and almost frightens me. Her story of family, love, and want for connection makes her more beautiful.
“Honestly, Solia, I’m at a loss for words. They clearly had a profound impact on you, and they had a beautiful love story. I admire how you see things most people wouldn’t try to imagine. I never question the afterlife. Having them send you signs must be comforting.”
“Very. Everybody questions themselves in life. We want to make the right decisions, don’t we? Having them reach me from the other side is transformative, especially when I need a little reassurance. I’ve allowed myself to heal and still have them in my life.” She smiles as I lean around the table and gently kiss her cheek.
“Do you think anybody can ask for a sign from a lost loved one?” I ask, looking at my lap.
“Yeah, totally. As long as you are open, anything is possible. It can’t hurt to ask.” Solia bends her head low, trying to catch my eye.
I can’t help but think of Trinity. I’m desperate to escape the pain and thought I had exhausted all possibilities. Is there a way to heal without running?
14
Dinner did not go as I’d imagined it would—it was better. Jackson is so supportive, the kind of man who usually lives in the pages of a romance novel. Our physical connection was off the charts this afternoon, and tonight, our emotional connection truly deepened. I would never have foreshadowed discussing my belief in life after death, my grandparents, and crying on a first date, but it made for an intense conversation. Jackson handled it effortlessly and accepted my vulnerability. No one has ever seen me, truly seen me.
Not only does Jackson drive me wild, he’s sweet, reassuring, and he makes me comfortable enough to say things I’ve never spoken aloud.
As we’re driving home, rain splatters the windshield, and the wind begins to whip. “Glad this held off. I enjoyed dinner on the patio.”
“I couldn’t agree more. So, what do you have planned for this week? Job searching? Dancing on the deck?”
“Hilarious. Certainly job hunting—I need to get my mother off my back—but I want to enjoy the summer the way it’s meant to be enjoyed. I need to get to the lake. It’s so beautiful. The way I see it, the more time spent there, the better. I love to paddleboard, but I’m always up for kayaking, swimming, or reading a book on the beach. I’ve always been a lake girl—the cool sand, the cleanest water anywhere, the mountains in the distance, and no crowds! You must be on the lake every free minute.”
“It is beautiful. I have a boat at Gray Ledge Marina. Are any friends coming to visit during the summer?” Jackson changes the topic so abruptly, I angle my head toward him, wondering if I said the wrong thing. His voice and tone have completely changed.
However, when I look at him, he appears fine and smiles. Certainly, it’s my imagination; assuming I can already read his body language would be presumptuous.
Why does he seem so familiar?
“My friend Mia is visiting the weekend after the Fourth. I’m excited to have her here. She and I met in college and have been inseparable ever since. She’s the best.”
“Those guys you met earlier have been my buddies forever as well. We laugh our asses off every time we’re together.” He jabs the steering wheel with his fist.
Suddenly, we are pitched into a black hole. The sky darkens, rain pours from the clouds, and the truck weaves in the wind. “Holy shit, hold on.” Jackson yanks to the right, steering us to the side of the road. I feel the tires jut from the concrete onto the dirt shoulder.
I remember microbursts at the lake during summers with my family when we’d have to run as fast as we could to take cover. Everyone grabbed what they could—umbrellas, chairs, and towels, then ran to throw themselves and everything into the car. We’d laugh and watch the storm. Luckily, nothing serious ever occurred. Vacationers would be terrified and pack up for the day, not to return, but we knew the drill. We’d wait it out, unload, and enjoy the rest of the day.
These storms don’t happen frequently, but enough that everyone here has their reaction time down pat. When you’re in these parts, it’s best to be informed and understand the impact they can have.
Jackson and I huddle together on the roadside as pounding rain pours over the truck. He scooches closer and wraps himself around my shoulders. Every inch of his arm leaning on my skin sends goose bumps across my body. Being this close in complete darkness with only the rain and wind echoing through the cab, I focus on the breaths between us and attempt to keep my excitement on simmer.
“We haven’t had one of these in a while. Don’t worry, it’ll be quick,” Jackson says, turning to me.
“These, I remember. Once you get caught in one, you never forget. My dad used to love these storms.” The rain continues, beating the hood of the truck, and the wind whips around us. A sudden chill vibrates through me. I shudder slightly, and Jackson notices.
He reaches into the back seat and grabs a green zip-up hoodie and motions for me to lean forward. He then wraps it around my back and over my shoulders. “Does this help?”
“Yes, thank you. I’m still a little cold. Could you come closer?” Without hesitating, Jackson moves as far as he can in his seat. I take his face in my hands and pull him toward me. I crave more and my interest shifts into overdrive, no chance of putting it under lock and key.
He lets me lead, and I kiss him with urgency and passion. My heartbeat matches the rhythm of the rain. Our kiss becomes frantic and desperate, making me want to crawl out of my seat and straddle Jackson right here on the side of the road. Heat rises between my legs, and I’m ready to give him all of me.
However, we simultaneously start laughing because we’re stunned into silence when twilight fills the cab. Once again, we’re two kids getting caught making out. This time it isn’t people but the weather.
We separate, my stomach aching from yet another intimate encounter cut short.
If Jackson had any idea what he’s doing to me, he’d assume I’d never been with a man before. Every touch, even his stroking my hand, turns me on. I don’t think I’ve grabbed a man’s face and kissed him as intensely as I kissed Jackson. No one has made me fall apart at the seams so effortlessly.
Our conversation flows on the way home, but the sexual tension between us is palpable. Jackson walks me to the door. Thankfully, I forgot to turn on the outside light. Otherwise, we’d be swarmed by a zillion mosquitoes. The glow of the lamppost at the bottom of the lengthy staircase is just enough to light our path. We stand on the slightly crooked landing by the front door, and I’m unsure what to do next.
