Pocketful of Sand

And I pushed him away because of fear. Because I got out of the moment and into my own head. I let myself fall into the darkness, into the chasm where all the monsters lurk. And they chased away my one shot at normal, at happy. At love, even. Maybe. At the very least the hope of love.

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The demons from my past haunt me. Last night, they ran rampant through my dreams, turning them into nightmares that left me in a puddle of my own cold sweat. They whispered to me from every corner today. They’ve done that for years. They tell me that I’m not normal, that I’m damaged goods and that no one will ever want me. And, for the most part, I’ve believed them.

Until now.

Until Cole.

All day, I’ve watched for him. I saw him inside the house across the street earlier and I’ve watched for him to come out. He never did. At dark, the lights came on inside and they’re still on now.

I move into the living room, away from the window. Away from Cole. But I don’t leave him behind. I bring him with me. I dwell on him as I sit, staring into the fire that I’ve nursed since he built it. Somehow I’ve equated it to what burns between us, as though if I let the fire die, so will the attraction. The possibility. The hope.

The hope of Cole.

I’ve never been so drawn to another person. Never wanted someone this way. And I do. God, how I want him! Before he uttered those words, before he caged me with his arms, I was lost. Ecstatically, euphorically lost.

But I let a monster ruin it. A monster that now lives only within the confines of my head because he’s hundreds of miles away. All I’ve ever wanted was to be normal, to be happy and healthy and whole, and part of me believes that I could be all of that with Cole. That he’s the one who’s destined to drag me out of the past. Only I don’t think he’s the type to drag me if I resist. He stopped the instant he felt me resisting him last night. And it hurt him. I could see it. He was so kind about it, but I could see the confusion and the hurt.

What if that completely ruined it? What if he doesn’t want to try again? What if now he thinks I’m damaged goods and wants nothing to do with me? What if I don’t get another chance? What if I’ve looked into his beautifully intense blue eyes for the last time?

I envision my life ahead as more of the same. I love my daughter and I live for her, but this thing with Cole…feeling like a part of something else, one half of a whole…I never realized it could be this way. That I could feel this way.

But that could be over. I could go the rest of my life and never feel this way again. Never get butterflies of excitement. Never melt with a look. Never burn with a touch. Never crave with such intensity. All because I was afraid. I let someone who can’t hurt me anymore hurt me. And he’ll keep on hurting me if I don’t get over this.

Now.

I look around me, at the way the fingers of light stretch into the dark shadows around the room. Or is it the dark shadows encroaching on the light? It mimics the power struggle within me. My past–black nothingness, lurking, stalking, mocking. My present–warm, golden, promising. Alive.

Without even stopping to think about what I’m doing, I shove my feet into boots, creep in to check on Emmy and then head straight for the door. I don’t even grab a coat. I just lurch out into the cold, snowy night and head for the street.

I clomp through the drifts, oblivious to the wind whipping at my hair and the flakes wetting my cheeks. I have one thing in mind–Cole. I need him. I need him to come back. I need him to make me forget rather than remember. I need him to replace the ugly with the beautiful.

I march up the steps and knock on the door. He might answer. He might not. But I’m not leaving until he does. Because I need him. And I think he needs me.

I jump when the door jerks open. I wasn’t expecting such a rapid response.

For a few seconds, I’m struck speechless by the heat in his wildly blue eyes. They’re the most amazing color, and the way they hold me…the way he looks at me…it’s like he’s touching me. Through and through.

Cole shakes his hair back. He has great hair. Sexy hair. The longish locks lay like a hairdresser fixed them and then messed them up just the right amount. The bangs hang nearly to his chin, effortlessly framing his gorgeous face.

My heart stutters in my chest when I take in his naked torso and his low-slung jeans. Rather than taking the risk of saying something stupid, I just bend and grab the boots by the door and hand them to Cole. I hold my breath as I wait. What if he’s not interested since I freaked out? What if he starts asking me questions that I have no answers for? What if this is all a huge mistake?

I bring myself up short. There’s no turning back now. There’s just not. Not for me.

Cole’s brow furrows, an expression that I’m learning to love. I think for a second that he’s going to resist, or tell me to get lost, but he doesn’t. Instead, he wordlessly takes the boots from my hands and drops them on the porch. My heart sinks for a second, thinking that’s as far as this is going to go, but then, with his eyes on mine, he steps into them.

Hesitantly, I reach for his hand and tug. My stomach flips over when his fingers curl around mine and he reaches back with his other hand to close the door behind him.

I waste no time crossing the street again. My determination is still at fever pitch, but now my nerves are kicking in and I’m jittery, which makes my steps even more hurried.

“Eden, what’s wrong?” Cole finally asks when we’re nearing my front door.