Page 43 of Embers

He’s gone. If he was able to get back, he’d be here by now. He’d never have deserted me on purpose. Not like this. Not when he promised to come back.

My body is wracked with every sob. They hurt my throat. My head throbs with pressure that pushes its way out my eyes. I lower my face toward the floor as I cry, unable to sit up straight or wipe the tears and slobber from my face.

It’s the worst.

The worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.

I don’t have any idea how long I cry on the floor like that or how long it would have lasted. Nothing breaks through the crashing of emotion. Nothing until I feel a draft of outside air from behind me.

Then a voice. Soft. Gruff. So familiar. “Oh fuck, baby. I’m here. I’m so sorry. I’m here.”

It takes a minute for the realization to pierce through the dark cloud in my brain. He’s kneeling on the floor beside me, lifting my upper body to straighten me up, before reality fully processes. “Cal!”

“Yeah. Fuck it all, I’m so sorry I’m so late.” He’s drenched in sweat and dirt, and his hair is a tangled mess. His features are twisting with feeling.

“Where were you?”

“The fuckin’ truck broke down. I’ve been walkin’ since midafternoon.”

I blink. “What?”

“The truck broke down. I couldn’t fix it. So I had to walk back.”

I reach out to hold on to his shirt. It’s just as sweaty and dirty as his skin. Anxiously, my eyes run up and down his body. He’s a mess. Exhausted and grungy and worn. He walked all the way home from wherever he left his truck. Hours and hours. “Cal.”

“I’m okay. I’m here.”

Another sob gurgles up as I notice blood all over his shoes and the bottoms of his trousers. “You’re hurt!”

He glances down at his feet with what looks like scorn. “Damn shoes didn’t hold up. It’s not a big deal. I’m so sorry you were so scared and upset.”

“I thought you were dead! I couldn’t think of any other reason you wouldn’t come back to me.”

With a rough groan, he reaches out and pulls me into a tight hug. “I’m not dead, baby. I’m right here. Bein’ dead is the only thing in the fuckin’ universe that could ever keep me away from you.”

I’m crying helplessly—from joy and intense relief and the aftermath of all my fear. I bury my face in his shirt. He smells terrible. Like he always does but more intense somehow—like all the stress and effort of the day pushed his natural scent into overdrive.

But I love it. I want it. It’s Cal, and it’s surrounding me.

He’s surrounding me.

He’s not gone.

He came home after all.

He walked all night to get back to me.

I’d have done the same thing if it was the only way to get back to him.

9

Cal’s feetare all torn up.

When I’m finally able to let go of him, I get worried again about the blood, so I move down to undo his shredded shoes and pull them off. We’re both still on the floor, too exhausted and overcome to get ourselves up yet.

I whimper as I gently remove the remains of his old hiking boots and then peel off the bloodied socks. “What did you do, Cal?”

“Told you. Shoes didn’t hold up.”

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