The bottom of the deep blue seaHe's back and he's incredibly angry that Sam went ahead and let the army close up my ghost adventure park, behind his back, behind Joel's, with a decided lack of preparation and forethought, truth be told. It's like they just woke up with this plan. She has her soul, let's nix the spirits while we can, before anyone can object or continue to let Bridget grieve in her slow-motion sort of way, drifting aimlessly through life pinging back and forth between destroying the living and raising the dead.
The bottom of the deep blue sea
Ironic, since a huge part of my draw toward him is that he's as close to Jake as I will ever be again. And I missed him terribly, as he went back for three weeks to Newfoundland and didn't call even once.
Not once.
Who's angry?
Hey, if Sam is calling the shots, what do you need me for? He's got me pinned against him, fighting with me to take me out of my clothes while I work to keep them on. Not doing this. No rage-homecomings. We have to sort out the hurt feelings and then we can move on to all the other stupid feelings because hurt clouds everything.
Stop. I struggle with him but he's not listening. My body is so on board with this but my heart wants to fix everything else first.
Not stopping. Ever think I missed you and that's why I couldn't call?
You didn't text me either.
Are you listening to what I just said? Shirt's off now. Goosebumps all over as it sinks in along with the chill from his loft, unheated while he was gone, just beginning to warm up.
I missed you.
That's a feeling. That's an affirmative feeling, August.
One that I hate myself for.
Don't say that. There go my jeans. I cross my arms in front of me for warmth, for protection from his words.
I wasn't going to go there. I haven't loved someone in a long time.
It's not love.
What is it?
I don't know.
Then call it love until you come up with something that makes you feel better. And he bends his head down to kiss Little Miss So Much Trouble he may have been better off staying away forever.