I needed something new.
I couldn’t live in the city my mom died in, knowing that the only family I had left hated me.
So I left.
It was selfish but I did it to protect my heart. I ran away from a city of heartbreak to one where I could start fresh. A new job a few states away was the opportunity I needed and I took it with hopes of rebuilding my life while healing.
I didn’t think I would meet anyone.
I didn’t think I would give my heart away.
I didn’t think I could risk breaking all over again.
But I did meet someone. I met him.
And I did give my heart away.
But this time I got to decide, let the love break me or accept that sometimes there’s beauty in chaos.
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About the Author:
Liz lives in a small town in the Midwest with her husband, two sons, and evil cat. She’s always had a love for writing but just recently started with novels. She’s a firm believer in the magic of coffee and music. When she’s not writing she’s a human trampoline for her toddlers. When she can escape that she’s reading. She loves living in the worlds of dystopian, YA, and, NA.
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The dirty dishes were in the sink, our stomachs were full, and we were somewhere past drunk. I sat on the couch with my legs resting over Mason’s lap. He grabbed my foot and started rubbing it. I took another sip of wine. By that time, I’d stopped counting how many glasses I’d had.
We’d talked about everything and nothing as we always had. My head rested against the armrest, but when I brought it back up, I saw a change in Mason’s eyes. He had a strong gaze that I felt over each spot his eyes traced. Each pass over me flared with heat. When his eyes finally met mine again, I felt another flood of heat that encompassed my entire body and ended in my stomach. We held onto the tension for a moment.
“Dance with me.” He grabbed my hand and guided me up and into the kitchen.
“I might wobble more than dance.” I giggled at the loose feeling that came with being tipsy.
“I’ve got you.” He held me close, my hand in his as it rested on his chest.
I rested my head against him.
“I don’t think I’ve told you how stunning you look tonight.”
“I think you’ve only said it every other minute,” I said, because he had told me just that many times as we ate.
I wrapped my hands behind his neck.
He brought his lips to the top of my head and started to sing. It was quiet at first, a whisper, just for me.
I bit my lip. I may have been drunk on wine, but I was intoxicated by him.
He could actually sing. I hadn’t known that about him before, and once again, I felt myself falling deeper. I looked up at him while he sang. He didn’t take his eyes away from me, and I hung onto every word.
I pulled him in as he finished the song. I couldn’t kiss him fast enough. I tried so hard to show him how much I felt for him with my lips. His hands on my bare skin just below the hemline of my dress, he grabbed onto my legs then pulled them up. I wrapped them around him in response. He brought me over to the couch and lowered me slowly. Our kiss deepened.