Prompted by: Mary Ellen
It took more than just his legs. So much more. It stole the man I loved. A piece of my heart.
Okay, that’s a complete and utter lie.
It stole the man I still love. Ripped out my entire heart. Left behind a raw, gaping hole I’ve never been able to fill.
I hate Iraq.
It’s been a decade.
Over a decade.
Ten years. Seven months. Thirteen days…
He froze in the doorway and growled, “You deserve better.”
“I don’t want better. Besides,” Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pressed my forehead between his shoulder blades. “I dig scars.”
His entire body tensed, taut as a bowstring. Then he turned toward me. Slowly. Painstakingly.
And I dared to hope. That he’d pull me close. Hold me tight. Promise me it would be okay.
Instead, he grabbed my shoulders and shoved me away, his mouth flattening into a stubborn line.
I knew exactly what he was about to say. Because he refused to meet my gaze. I wasn’t ready to hear it. I wasn’t prepared…
Fighting back tears, I choked out the words, “You don’t mean that.”
He meant it.
He didn’t once look back.
Little did he know…
I would never move on. I couldn’t. Not completely anyway.
He would always own me. I would always belong to him. And everyone else would pale in comparison.
It’s been over a decade since I’ve seen him.
He looks different. Leaner. Older. More worn in.
But nothing’s changed.
He’s still the sexiest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
I watch as he turns to leave.
Not this time.
“I’ve missed you.”
I won’t let him.
What’s the prompt for next week, guys?
Make suggestions below. 7 words or less.