Love and Loss.
Two tiny words, each with their own powerful impact. They can both happen at any given moment and both can forever change your soul. It’s how you allow it to change you that matters. The hard part is finding a balance when the loss gets overwhelming. How do you do that when everyone you thought you couldn’t live without leaves you?
Loss is inevitable. I’ve had enough in my life to know that much. Now I’ve just got to figure out how to survive it.
Ages 18+ due to adult situations and violence. Some situations may be difficult for some readers.
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John stepped in and closed the door. “That isn’t the reception I was hoping for.” He locked the door.
“And what reception was that? I couldn’t get the parade together for you since you never called to tell me you were ever coming back.” I never looked up while I talked, but I had heard him lock the door and my excitement grew. If I looked up, he would’ve known I wanted him—despite how indifferent I was trying to be.
I should’ve kept my eyes on him. He was next to me before I knew it, and he startled me as he twirled my chair around and knelt down in front of me. “I like you in skirts, Abs.” He slid his hand up my thigh.
“Jo–John.” I stopped his hand. “You don’t get to ignore me for ten days and then come waltzing into my office expecting me to drop my panties for you.” I turned back to my desk, proud that I had stood my ground. I hadn’t done that before.
John sighed and got up to go back to the chair in front of my desk. “I’m sorry, Abby. I’m a fool that had to figure out a few things, but I figured them out, and I’m here now.” He watched me work in silence for a few minutes. “When can you get out of here, so we can have a proper celebration?”
“And just what are we celebrating?”
I didn’t know if I had heard him right. I wanted to jump over the desk and onto his lap, but I was scared that I had misunderstood what he was saying. I swallowed. “Us? What do we have to celebrate?”
“Why don’t we talk about that over dinner? So, when can you go?”
“Why do you automatically assume I’m free for dinner—or anything else, for that matter?” I was still pissed he hadn’t called for ten days and came in as if nothing had happened.
“You’re pissed. I get it, and I deserve it. I’m in town for a few days, and if you change your mind, give me a call.” He was up and had the door open before he finished.
“Are you going to call me back this time?” I was still hurt, but didn’t want him to leave.
“No, I’m going to answer and not let it go to voicemail. I really am sorry, Abs. When you want me, call me, and we’ll talk over dinner.” He turned and walked out.
I stared at my phone. I wanted to call him back to the office desperately, but I didn’t want to seem too desperate. Who was I kidding? I picked up the phone.
He didn’t answer the phone, but stepped back into the doorway with a huge smile. “I thought you’d never call.” He locked the door again and was back by my side with just a few large steps. He lifted me out of my chair and put my arms around his neck. “This is the greeting you will greet me with from now on.” He slapped my ass and kissed me hard. “Understood?”
I grabbed the bulge in his jeans. “Keep ordering me around and slapping my ass like that, and I’ll never touch your little friend here again.” I squeezed. “Understood?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Completely.”
I tried to not smile, but failed. “You just took that as a challenge.” I turned back to my desk.
John grabbed me and pulled me to him. I placed my hands on his chest to brace myself for impact before I slammed into him. “I’m not finished with you yet.” He cupped my face and brought it to his. He kissed me so softly and sweetly that I had trouble catching my breath. I was glad to finally have something good steal breath from me. I gripped his shirt, trying to pull him closer.
He stopped kissing me, but still held my face and looked in my eyes. He whispered, “I love you, Abigail Hughes.”
My eyes shot open wide as I tried to push on his chest. I needed to be out of his grip, but he wouldn’t let me go. “You can’t love me. I’m no good for you.”
He pulled me to him and wrapped his big arms around me. “It’s scary, isn’t it? To let yourself be this vulnerable with someone again takes a lot of trust—and I’m very happy and honored you decided to trust me.”
B.L. Mooney started writing when the voices and storylines in her head ran out of room. They were getting too cramped and neither B.L. nor the characters could take it anymore, so she did the only thing she could do--she made room. She always knew she wanted to write, but vowed to make time for it later. Now that she's made time for writing, most everything else falls to the wayside. That seems to suit the characters that keep popping up just fine.
B.L. lives in the Midwest and her other talents include in-demand cookies, a very dry sense of humor, and stealth eavesdropping. Some mannerisms, attitudes, or twists come from random sentences picked up while passing by strangers. So speak up the next time you have something to gossip about. You never know, it may just end up on the pages of the next book you read.