The Boy I Married [hold]

12 | Recklessness

"It's okay. Trust me. I am not going to judge you for shedding a few tears or breaking down completely. If anything, you're the first person who I've met that can relate to me on this sort of level. The pain is unbearable at times and honestly I'm here whenever. Absolutely no amount of judgment whatsoever. You don't have to force yourself happy in front of me."

Jake smiles in my direction and then walks back over to the sofa to take a seat. He took another swig of his wine before letting out a shaky exhale.

"I don't talk about Sam often and when I do talk about him it's to explain to people how I don't talk about him. It eats me alive on the inside of me; hearing his name. Pretending he was never here," A harsh sob falls from his lips before he tries hiding it with the clearing of his throat.

The pain that now connected us to one another was soul binding almost. As hard as I tried to push my emotions to the side to cater to his needs, the thought of my daughter's lost life struck the same nerve Sam's had.

I choke down a hard swallows, drowning my sobs in it.

"Look at us. Two old people crying at ten o'clock at night over a glass of wine and business plans."

Jake laughs and clears the tears in his eyes before tightening the grip between our hands.

"I want you to know that the same applies to you. If you need someone to vent to or talk to about Aria, I'm here. I mean, it may end up with the both of us sobbing like lunatics but I'm positive it will be good for the soul. I feel a little better. Vulnerability is one hell of a beast."

I nodded in response to him and stayed quiet. The sobs had slowly died out in the pit of my stomach and this time, it didn't leave the normal ache that talking about her left. In this moment, peace thrived.

Jake and I sat hand in hand for a tad longer. Our gaze focused on everything but each other until his voice shallowly whispered an agreement to the name. His breath was soft and the silence in the house was almost louder than the thoughts in my head. My eyes pulled away from my plans in an instant after hearing my name and when my attention met with Jake's, the plush felling of his skin connected with mines just as quickly as it unconnected.

"Fuck," he spats, standing straight up and taking a few steps back. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. God, I should go. Yeah, I'll go and you'll never see me again."

His voice was frantic and his hands shuffled desperately in his pockets in hopes of finding his car keys so he could rush away but the only thing on my mind was continuing our planning session and the fact that there was no way I was going to let him leave here tonight. He held his liquor well, though my name wouldn't be tied to the death of another person.

"Don't do that. I don't want you to go. Stay. We can get some more work done. You shouldn't leave here anyways. You're tipsy. I wouldn't feel comfortable with you driving home intoxicated."

He eyes me with confusion before taking a hastily seat on the sofa again.

"I'm not drunk. Wine doesn't get me going until I've made it to at least the second bottle. Trust me. My tolerance is rock hard. Death and divorce will do that to you," he laughs out. I didn't find it funny. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke like that."

Our eyes meet again, the quiet swallowing the both of us up again and almost as if two magnets colliding, our lips touched again. This time he didn't pull away and I much as something in me told me this wasn't right, my body said another. His touch felt comforting. Pure. Like it was only there to fill the ache Aria's death caused and I couldn't let that go. I didn't want to. Our limbs somehow found themselves entangled with one another until we were on top of each other with nothing to shield our bodies from completely touching. His hands roamed the very depths of my body. Traveling all the way up until they'd been on my hips. He used his hands to push me further on to him until he was inside of the deepest parts of me.

I hated how our pain connected us this way. How the loss of either one of our children could have the pull to cause us to recklessness in form of comfort but yet, we'd found ourselves engulfed in ecstasy and moans until every part of hurt festering in the both of us was nothing more than a mere feeling of pleasurable release.

His hands tightened around my hips as we finished on each other before our breathing could fill the quiet room. We stayed still until the high was no longer there anymore. Nothing but regret lingering above the both of us.

When we parted, his eyes met mines for a second. Regret heavy as our bodies desperately gathered the clothes that we'd once been wearing until we were both fully clothed again and then our attention teetered back to the business plan as if nothing had ever happened.

"Samaria's Coffee. My dad would've loved that," Jacob confessed, finishing off the rest of his wine.

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well. looks like there's two big secret's now involved in this marriage.

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