I spent Sunday morning lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling well after the time when I would usually be up, dressed, and on with my day. I’d been exhausted when I got home from the tattoo shop the night before, but I had only been able to sleep in short, fitful bursts throughout the night. I woke up when the sky was still completely dark and couldn’t force myself to go back to sleep for hours.

When I finally did, I had miserable dreams that woke me up in a cold sweat with a pit in my stomach. I didn’t remember the exact details of what I dreamed, but it was enough to make me feel slightly sick and my heart tremble. After that, I couldn’t sleep again. But I also didn’t want to get up. I lay there, the questions and dread-filled thoughts Josh’s message conjured up rolling around in my head.

I finally forced myself to get up out of bed and go into the bathroom for a shower. I hoped the hot water would help to cut through the heavy, weighted-down feeling that was making me drag through every action I was trying to take. Instead, I stood with my head hanging down and my back to the water, just letting it pound down on me as I tried to make the rest of the world around me disappear.

When I got out, my phone had a notification that I had messages waiting for me. A couple of them were in the group text with Lauren, Harleigh, and Desiree. We used the group to chat about everyday life, share little bits of information and news, suggest get-togethers, and essentially anything else that popped to mind. I didn’t post in it nearly as often as the others, but it still meant a lot to me to be included in it. I made a couple of comments just for good measure, then moved on to the message from Deacon.

Usually, I loved when I saw his name show up in my inbox. This time it just reminded me even more of everything that was repeating through my head over and over again in a continuous loop. He was just saying good morning and telling me he hoped I had a good day. It was a common message from him, but this time it made a hint of tears spring to my eyes.

I sent back the briefest response I could. I didn’t want to completely ignore him, but I also felt like I needed to separate myself a little bit from him until I had thought this all the way through and knew what I was going to do next. I couldn’t let myself be more attached and lean on him when I felt like it was only a matter of time until he wasn’t there anymore.

Throughout the day, he messaged me a few more times, and I sent back a word or two. I struggled not to let myself feel like every message was just getting me a little bit closer to the end.

The tattoo shop was closed for the day, but that didn’t mean I was getting the day off. I spent a few hours in the afternoon watching videos, sketching and resketching, and studying the materials Gus gave me. As much as I wanted to fully immerse myself in learning about my art and working on my skills, I was distracted.

It made my heart ache to even admit that it was what I was thinking, but I was seriously wondering if I needed to just stop this whole thing with Deacon before I really ended up getting my heart broken. If it stopped right then, it would hurt like hell, and I didn’t think I would ever completely get over the sadness. But at least I wouldn’t get any deeper. Because if I let this continue, I could see myself falling totally in love with Deacon, and I didn’t know how I would cope if it went away after that happened.

I could just call Deacon and tell him we should end things now. I could tell him that we were in different places, and it wasn’t going to work out.

When I considered doing that, not only did it make my chest hurt and my stomach turn, but it also made me feel like that would just make me a coward. The whole thing was a massive mess, and I had no idea what to do.

23

DEACON

Saturday, I spent most of the day working on the garden and experiencing the calm that came with physical labor and the accomplishment of a goal. It was soothing and relaxing and put me in a good place by the time I showered and went to bed that night. As dawn rose on Sunday, I felt like the day would be good, and I enjoyed my sunrise coffee with the calm of a man prepared for adventure.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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