Page 98 of One More Kiss

Chapter3

Before I can confronthim about his connection to my past, Corbin calls us over to where he's wandered a few feet away to the nearby stream.

"Look, Mommy! Fishes!"

A smile breaks out on David's face. It's clear that Corbin's love of nature mirrors his own, and it erases some of the tension from the moment before. He glances toward him and then back at me, a smile beaming across his face, before he strolls in the direction of Corbin's little voice.

I take a deep breath and lift my face to the sky before I follow them.

The sky is an electric blue, the sun a shiny white ball. A few wispy clouds are hiding behind the trees. The day is warm yet muggy, a kind of thickness to the air that comes before a storm.

It's not like I didn't know that today, being in this place, would bring back memories, but I didn't expect to have to confront them head-on. I thought it would be more of a gradual, self-growth process.

The kind of stuff they sell in ads for online therapy and fake wellness courses. Where healing is a quiet journey with a rainbow at the end.

In my experience, healing is gruesome and raw. It's terrifying and hard. It's stripping away every last part of your heart until you're left with nothing but a beating lump of muscle, gristle, and bone. You can see every vein and artery and cell for what it is, the intricate mechanisms that pump through you and keep the machine together. You have to see what the disease is doing to your body and you have to scrape it away with a spatula and force yourself to eat it in order to get better. It takes time, it takes pain, it takes courage.

So, yeah, I'm not entirely sure why I expected today to be any different. But I did.

I thought I was past the hardest parts and everything else would be the equivalent of fluffy pillows and hot tea. Not a steak knife and a tornado.

But, I was wrong. Oh, so wrong. The panic attack at the top of the zipline is still clawing at my lungs, though most of it has past. The aftereffects have left me exhausted and shaking, but to be a mom means to get myself together and go see what fishes my little guy has found.

I ground myself in the beautiful scenery around us, the fresh air, and the sound of Corbin's laugher as I begin the walk down to the bank.

David and Corbin play in the water as if it's the most amazing thing in the world. Corbin's shoes are getting soaked, but I'll worry about that later when he starts complaining about them being squishy. Right now, I'll let him have his fun.

They're talking about fish, about being quiet so that they can spot them before they get spooked. I watch David, his back is to me, dark hair plastered to his neck, shirt clinging to his back. The muscles in his shoulders are defined and flex as he bends over to look at the fish at his sons' feet. There's a smile on Corbin's face that I haven't seen in a long time, and it just lights up the entire world.

"Mommy, look! I caught one!"

Corbin's voice startles me, and I turn to look at the fish flopping on the dirt between him and David.

"You did! That's amazing, buddy." My voice is shaky and weak, but my smile is genuine. "I'm going to take a picture, okay? Just hold still." I fumble with my phone and press the button before turning back to them.

Still kneeling beside him, David puts one arm around Corbin's shoulders and they both smile up at me, the fish flopping around between them.

"Now, let's get him back in the water, okay?" David's voice is calm, but there's a sternness to it. "He can't breathe in the air. The same way we can't breathe in water."

Their voices fade as I pull up the picture I've just taken. It isn't the first time I've wished Corbin had a real father, but it's certainly the strongest. I'd broken down a handful of times when he was smaller. Moments when I wished I had someone to share the struggles with and moments when I wished I had someone to share the celebrations with. His first words, his first steps. It had just been me. An infant doesn't care that they've reached a milestone and no one else was around to even tell.

I push that thought aside. There's no point to it. I'm doing the best I can. I've been his mom and his dad. Corbin is happy, he's healthy, and he's safe. That's all that matters.

I turn back to the river, where Corbin and David are still playing quietly. Corbin is fishing for new ones, apparently done with the first one, and David's standing on the bank with his arms crossed, watching with a smile on his face.

David's quiet strength, his steadfastness. His quiet courage.

I'd often wondered about my angel and now I didn't have to wonder any more. From these short moments we'd shared together, I knew that David was the kind of guy who'd risk his life to pull an injured woman from a dangerous cliff.

He was the kind of man who'd go out of his way to help a friend in need. He was the kind of man who'd stand up for what's right, even if it would come at the cost of his livelihood.

He was the kind of man who'd be an amazing father.

And in that moment, I know I need to say something. I can't let this opportunity pass me by. Even if it makes the rest of the day awkward as hell, even if it's painful to face the memories, I need to talk to him about what happened six years ago. I need to let him know he saved me.

And if, by some miracle, it doesn't freak him out, maybe we could have my angel in our lives now. There's no wedding ring. Believe me, it was the first thing I checked. But even if there is a girlfriend (or boyfriend, I'm not judging) we could still stay friends, possibly.

Crap. I am terrible at this. I've never been a flirt. I don't even know how to broach the subject without coming off like some creepy stalker lady.

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