I didn’t think sex with Kael could feel more carnal than it did on Thanksgiving in the back of my Tahoe. I was wrong.
He wasn’t looking into my eyes. I wasn’t facing him. There was nothing personal or intimate about what we were doing. It was nothing but fucking.
No kissing.
No flirty glances.
No clinging to each other.
The moment felt as dark as the room.
But I couldn’t stop.
Like every time before that night, Kael knew what I wanted even if it wasn’t what I needed.
He willingly became my addiction—the needle, the narcotic.
He fed it.
He jumped off every cliff with me.
He was my highest high … and my lowest low.
No condom.
No questions.
No objections.
I sucked in a sharp breath when he entered me—one hand clenching my hip, one hand gripping my shoulder as he pounded into me.
Why?
Why didn’t it feel more wrong?
Why didn’t I feel used?
Everything in that moment was a metaphor for my life. Eyes wide open but blinded by the dark. Seduced by anything that felt like the opposite of the twenty-two years with Craig. Reveling in taking risks and equally as intoxicated by the idea of eschewing the moral code ingrained into my conscience.
It wasn’t a midlife crisis—it was a catastrophe on every level of my being. What initially felt like a quest for independence—a rebirth of my individuality—turned into the demise of my heart, the tarnishing of my soul. I didn’t lose myself from being married to Craig for twenty-two years; I lost myself when he died because he took such a huge piece of me with him.
I let him define me.
That woman I used to be didn’t need to be found. I needed to be redefined.
But … not by a man.
Craig made me feel stupid. He dismissed me. I gave him too much of myself, including my dignity.
Kael could give me an orgasm that made me temporarily lose all coherent thoughts—and he did.
He could make me desire sinful things—and he did.
He could add cracks to my already frail heart—and he did.
But he couldn’t define me. I didn’t need him.
I wouldn’t be his success or failure.
I wouldn’t be his crutch.
And I definitely wouldn’t be a forgone conclusion.
Never again.
The second I could open my eyes without them rolling back in my head … which was right as he eased out of me, I pulled up my panties and jeans. “Thanks.”
He chuckled. I couldn’t see him, but I heard his zipper and labored breathing. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m going to see if Bella needs anything before I head home. So … are you decent?” Blindly feeling around with my hands, I found the doorknob.
“As decent as I’ll ever be.”
I opened the back door and glanced over my shoulder, getting my first glimpse of Kael since we did … that. Pieced back together as if nothing happened, he straightened his beanie and followed me out the door. Again, he remained a good six feet behind me as we made our way to the square. When we turned the corner and rejoined the crowd, I peeked behind me one last time, but he had already headed left, and I was heading right.
Kael made no quick peek over his shoulder.
Not a second glance … probably not a second thought.
There was a reason I put my heart in a jar and stored it on the highest shelf—he couldn’t be trusted with it.
Neither could I.
If given the chance, I would have handed him the fucking jar.
Chapter Twenty-One
Reading my mind and reading between the lines were not the same things. One required an emotional connection, the other required consciousness.
* * *
Two weeks later …
In your forties, two weeks passed in a blink—unless you were missing someone. With the clock ticking down to the anniversary of Craig’s death, I was missing him, my boys, even Bella since I seemed to only catch her for a few minutes in the mornings before she headed out the door. Amie put in extra hours at her clinic to prepare for a little time off over Christmas and New Year’s. Meadow was my companion, a good companion.
Alone I could handle. After raising four children … and a husband … alone time nurtured my soul. If I could make it to January, I’d be in alone time heaven. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t feel extra grief, guilt, and sadness every year as the anniversary of Craig’s death approached, but the first year felt the most raw.
Kael?
Well, I hadn’t seen him since Holiday Fest. I wasn’t necessarily avoiding him, but I also wasn’t