Page 65 of The Refiner

He took my soul.

And when he kisses a rogue tear on my cheek, holding my eyes and finding his release with me, he takes my heart too.

Keagan

Aweek later and I’m still sore.

I think Astor might have poked a hole in something. Seeing how he is a doctor and all, I asked him if it was possible that he punctured something—which only led to him scaring me into climbing on the table, so he could take a look.

I realized, only when my legs were spread, and he was grinning, that the famous Dr. Potter was scamming me. The terrible comedian took an exorbitant amount of time exploring me with his mouth and fingers, only to tell me that vaginas were like a new baseball glove—they needed to be broken in. I might have smacked his chest and let him lube me up to prove his point.

But I’m still sore, and not from the first time we had sex.

Astor and I have found a way to deal with our grief. We have sex when Tatum is asleep, and then feed, rock, and change her when she’s awake. When those things are done, we’re both able to pass out and sleep, at least until Tatum wakes again.

It’s been the best few hours’ sleep I’ve had since learning of Piper’s prognosis.

But since my time away from work is counting down, I need to pack up Piper’s apartment—alone.

No matter how much I want to stay with Astor and Tatum, I can’t.

Because this thing between me and Astor is just comfort—it’s not real. And it will serve me well to remember that.

Relationships like these never work out—it’s not possible. Everything built between the couple is reactionary.

Would Astor have slept with me before Piper died? Doubtful. I wasn’t all that warm and fuzzy back then either. The difference is, we shared a trauma, which put us in each other’s path. We needed comfort, and only the two of us could understand that need.

It’s not that I want to push aside the feelings I have for Astor but right now, things are too complicated—too raw. I can’t make any decisions when my life has been uprooted. I’m highly unstable.

Besides, my history with men isn’t all that great, and once I go back to work, Ass Face will be happy to remind me why I avoid the male species altogether.

Not to mention when Astor goes back to work, he’ll be flooded with lunch offers from all the single female doctors.

They won’t hate men like I do.

They won’t be suffering from grief like I am.

They’ll offer to watch Tatum for him so he can sleep in on Sunday mornings. Then he will be reminded of all the nights he spends alone, rocking a baby who has no mother, just an aunt who lives three hours away that he only sees on the occasional weekend.

Mine and Astor’s relationship is doomed—a disaster waiting to happen.

So, I’m doing the responsible thing and putting distance between us.

Besides, I need to clean out Piper’s house and maybe find a mortgage statement. A payment is probably due, and the lender needs to be notified that Pipe is paying rent to Jesus now.

It should be easier than it sounds, considering Piper is an organized adult. But I’m on the second drawer of Piper’s filing cabinet and all I’ve discovered is that she needed an intervention.

Two drawers—I repeat, two drawers—are full of inappropriate birthday cards I sent Piper over the years. Most have terribly embarrassing pictures of her asleep with her mouth open with sarcastic verbiage along the lines of,Men won’t care how many wrinkles you have with a mouth circumference like yours. Happy Birthday to the oldest sister I know. I love you more than raw cookie dough.

Granted, I was likely buzzed and feeling frisky coming up with that gem, but my crazy sister saved every last card, like a mom saves her kids’ artwork.

A mom.

My sister deserves to be here, celebrating Halloween tonight with Tatum, and handing out candy in her picturesque neighborhood. Instead, Tatum is home with her orgasmic daddy, and I’m here, devouring the two Reese’s cups I found in Piper’s desk.

What a life I have.

I wonder if Kenny is manning the bar tonight. Maybe he could at least sneak some pictures of the crazy costumes for me. I’ve always loved Halloween. I can remember holding Piper’s hand as we walked around our neighborhood, collecting as much candy as we possibly could. When we got home, we’d dump it all out and start sorting it by favorites. Piper was the chocolate hog, and I loved anything that would pull out a tooth filling.

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