Page 13 of When We Collide

As the reality of what we just did comes crashing down on both of us. The turmoil he’s feeling inside radiates on his face. Deep down we’re both fully aware that what just happened between us was a mistake, even if neither of us can no longer deny the chemistry and formidable emotions that were stirred up in that fleeting, but heated moment.

As I make my way to the kitchen, I can hear Oscar’s footsteps as he makes his way upstairs. My knees feel like jelly, the floor unsteady beneath my feet with every step I take. I lick my lips and I can still taste his kiss. I can still feel his large hands wandering over my body and his erection pressing against me.

Shaking my head I press myself against the kitchen island and press my fingers to my lips as remorse starts to chip away at my conscience. Even if it didn’t feel wrong, it was. It was messed up. Oscar isn’t just a close friend, he’s so much more than that, he’s Dean’s older brother. Dean may be gone, but I still feel like I’ve just been unfaithful to him. I don’t know what the hell came over me.

As much as I hate to admit it, our exchange has sparkedsomethingin me…, yet it’s barely a flicker compared to the inferno Dean lit up inside me whenever we kissed. You know that expression, he doesn’t just kiss, he eats.

That was Dean.

Oh God, what am I doing? Way to go and make a big fat colossal mess of everything, Jeyla.

Guilt is like a ravenous beast,constantly feeding on itself and growing stronger with each passing moment. And I, unfortunately, have given it plenty to feast on in my lifetime. It's almost comical how both of my guilt-inducing situations involve the Reyes brothers.

Why is it that I seem to have some magnetic attraction towards them? First Dean, then Oscar... hell who knows, knowing my luck maybe Ashlyn will be next.

As I lie awake in bed, staring up at the blindingly white ceiling, I can't help but wonder what I am going to do about this mess. Sleep eludes me as my mind races through every detailof my encounter with Oscar, each replay only amplifying my overwhelming sense of guilt.

How stupid could I be to have ever let this happen?

Regret gnaws at me like a persistent parasite, reminding me of what an idiot I truly am. Sinking deeper into the soft pillows of my bed, I replay the encounter between Oscar and me again and again. Every kiss, touch, and breath shared between us feels like a betrayal, a forbidden pleasure that should haveneverhappened.

My pulse races with remorse as I think about our families. How could we ever explain something like this to them? To his mother who has already lost one son, and would have to face the reality of her other son being romantically involved with her late son’s wife. The mother of his child?

The vow I made to Dean at his graveside to wait for him sits like an elephant on my chest. I never expected to break it a year later with this older brother of all people.

It’s a tangled web of complicated emotions, made worse by Jess's meddling and her constant whisperings about Oscar's supposed long-standing love for me.

Am I catastrophising this? Making it a bigger deal than it is? Could last night have been a fleeting moment of weakness between two lonely people? After all, if the pained expression on Oscar's face was any indication, he was just as torn up over our actions as I was.

As much as I want to believe it was all just a mistake, deep down I know that it was more than that. There is something there. There has always been something there between us, but I ignored it.

We can’t erase what happened last night, and I can’t put Ashlyn through another ordeal like last time. History willnotbe repeating itself.

We’ll just forget it ever happened and move on like two mature adults.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try to push away the confliction and turmoil inside me. But to no avail; however hard I try, the image of Oscar's body pressed against mine and the taste of his kiss lingers in my mind like an unforgiving stain. This is all Jess's fault; if she hadn't planted those thoughts in my head, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have felt compelled to ask him about who he was talking about that night in Camber Sands. I should have just left well enough alone.

Ultimately, this is my own doing. My stupid weakness and loneliness that led me here, once again entangled in a thorny situation that can destroy everything and hurt a lot of people in the process.

What am I supposed to do if he wants to talk? Do I look him in the eyes and say… I’m sorry Oskie, I know I kissed you back last night rather ardently, however deep down I was kissing you and looking forhim.

You’re an idiot Jeyla.

Rolling onto my side with a resigned sigh, I reach over to my bedside table and pick up the photo I have of Dean and me on our wedding day.

My vision blurs the moment I look at his handsome face and how happy we were. “There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t miss you or wish you were here, Lieutenant,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over his face. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” I cry pressing thephoto to my chest. “I’m sorry I broke my promise to you. I’m just confused, but I still love you with my whole damn soul, I promise.”

The morning arrives too soon,and I already dread facing Oscar. My heart is torn between wanting to hide away and avoiding any potential confrontation, but I know I owe him a conversation for our friendship at the very least, if nothing else.

I can't just ignore what happened between us last night any more than he can— especially knowing my own role in it. The thought of having that conversation fills me with such deep anxiety it makes my stomach turn in on itself.

The soft, mellow cooing of DJ's sweet voice comes from the baby monitor, beckoning me to get out of bed. I tiptoe out of my room and into the nursery, greeted by the warm glow of the early morning sunlight spilling in from the window. As I lean over the crib to pick up my precious bundle, I whisper, “Good morning, my sweet angel.” His head of soft dark hair tickles my nose as I pull him close, inhaling deeply. The sweet, pure scent of baby fills my senses, and I am overwhelmed with love for this precious little miracle in my arms. I sway gently back and forth, lost in this perfect moment when he smiles up at me, his startling green eyes twinkling with innocence against the warm glow of the sunlight filtering through the window.

“Hey baby, you just become more and more gorgeous every day, yes, you do, my little prince. You’re so small, but youare mummy’swholeworld, you know that?” Where DJ was a preemie and born three months early, he’s still on the small side. He should be six months old by now, but because he was born early his correct age is in fact three months.

DJ turns his head, his tiny nose twitching as he hungrily searches for my breast. I had already pumped and disposed of the excess milk earlier this morning, ensuring that any traces of alcohol would have left my system by now, so I know it’s safe to feed him.

“Let's get you fed, little munchkin,” I whisper lovingly as I make my way to the cosy rocking chair nestled in the corner of the room. These precious moments spent feeding him are some of my favourites. The peacefulness envelops us, as if time stands still while he latches onto me, gazing up at me with admiration and affection while I caress his soft cheek with my finger. The gentle sounds of his suckles and swallows fill the quiet space, warming my heart.

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