Sunrise Fires (12 page)

My stomach dropped at the words. There was a part of me that felt guilty for refusing to marry Ryan. And now, here I was, going to Germany alone. “We’ll keep in touch. There’s always instant messaging and video calls, right?”

He gave me a sideways glance, “I guess.” He winced. “If that’s what floats your boat.”

“It doesn’t ‘float my boat,’ Mark. Ryan ‘floats my boat.’ But if I have to go to Germany, then I’ll make do with video calls and such. What’s your issue?” Mark felt far too accusatory and aggressive, and it really was getting under my skin.

Mark jammed a fist into his pocket and eyed me. “You ever think about being with somebody else?”

“What?!”

“I’m just saying. You’re at the track a lot. Anybody else here catch your eye?”

I scoffed, fuming mad, “No! What the hell, Mark?”

“Do you love him?”

“You
know
I love him!”

Mark’s body relaxed and he shrugged and kicked at a rock near his feet. Looking into my eyes, he said, “If you were my girl, I would never let you leave. If you were my girl, I’d do whatever I had to so that we’d never be apart like that.” He looked at me with uncharacteristic warmth and tenderness. Suddenly, I felt vulnerable. I didn’t know whether to hug him or back away from this conversation entirely. Ryan’s words from the night before rung in my ears. I was suddenly acutely aware of myself. “I’m just saying, a year apart is forever. You never know what can happen in a year.”

Tears filled my eyes as Mark was expressing my deepest fears. If Mark could see that Ryan and I would likely end over this, then surely it wasn’t all in my head. Even the guy who seldom pursues relationships could see it. I shook my head and admonished myself,
No. Don’t do this right now. Of all the times to start thinking this way, you’re leaving tomorrow. Get a grip on yourself!
“Y’know, Mark, you’re wrong.” I swigged my soda, trying to hear and believe my own words. “It’ll be fine. I know it will.” I downed the rest of my soda. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a refill.”

I made my way to the cooler.

“Hey, girl.” Talia’s voice was exactly what I needed at this moment.

“Oh, my God, Talia! I thought you left last night!” I hugged her tightly with my one free arm.

“That was part of the surprise, silly. Do you think these guys could pull this off with me to drill sergeant their asses?”

“God, I love you. I am going to miss you so much!”

“I’m not gonna give you the chance. Somebody’s gotta come show you the ropes of social life in Germany. And who better than someone who’s been there?” Before we’d met, Talia had lived for a couple years in Germany, a life experience she gloated about regularly.

“I can’t wait! I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“And so will I,” Jackie cut in, “I’m gonna be right there on that plane with her.”

“That’s gonna be one helluva girls’ night out then. Watch out Bavaria, here we come!” And we laughed and made plans for all the things we’d do when they got to Germany.

By the time the sun was setting, I’d made the rounds and talked to each of the guys, intentionally avoiding interacting with Mark again. I settled on the blanket between Ryan’s legs and watched the sun setting. Leaning back into him, feeling his breath on my neck, his arms around my body, the heat of his chest against my back, I felt like I could sit here forever frozen in this moment. I held the sides of his legs, toying with the seam of his pants. He kissed my neck and sucked on my ear lobe. “I love you, babe. And I’m gonna miss you so bad when you’re gone.” I reached behind me, putting my hands at his lower back and drawing him closer. “You’re gonna break my back, Jen.”

I snorted. “Oops.” My cheeks flushed as I scooted out from between his legs and moved behind him, sitting just above him on the ridge over his right shoulder. My left leg bent behind him, I laid my right leg out beside him and put my head on his shoulder. “Is that better?”

He stroked my calf. “Mmmhhmmm.” I felt the rumble of his voice against my chest. I was going to miss that.

After the sun set, we cleaned up the place a bit, and then the guys shooed us off, ensuring us that they’d get the girls, the coolers, and Chris back home safely. I gave everyone one more round of hugs, and then Ryan and I headed off for one last lap around the track.

*   *   *

The rock in the pit of my stomach grew larger and larger on the way home. I didn’t want to go and couldn’t imagine what I would feel like next week or next month. Never mind how I would feel by the time Ryan came to see me at Oktoberfest. That seemed like way too far from now, and the empty space between now and then felt like a vacuum of loneliness. My mind flew to the tentative end-date: Christmas. It had crossed my mind a number of times – trying to force myself to relax and at least give us until Christmas. But here, today on the eve of my departure, I thought it might be better to accept the end now, preempt the pain, rather than wait for it to land on me later when I wasn’t ready for it.

We weren’t home for five minutes before Ryan said something about it. “Stop it,” he warned.

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Stop it.”

“What do you mean?” I tried to sound innocent and confused, but Ryan was an ace at reading me.

“Brooding. I can see you over there. Wheels running a mile a minute. Lord knows what terrible thing you’ve foreshadowed, but Jesus, hun. Stop it.”

“Ryan, baby… I can’t stop it. It makes me sad. I’m so sad to be leaving. And still, I’m afraid.”

“Thinking about it won’t solve the problem. It might, however, ruin the rest of our night together.”

I clasped my hands on top of my head in frustration and took a deep cleansing breath. Exhaling slowly, I told myself that he was right. Besides, I had a long flight to catch in the morning and hours of time trapped in that plane. I would sort this all out. And then I smiled, remembering what he’d said at the track. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to taste one more time before I go?”

I have no idea how he crossed the room as fast as he did, but he had me pinned against the wall, hands above my head, kissing me while his free hand reached under my shirt and pushed up my bra, massaging my breast. I wrapped one leg around him and responded just as ravenously to his kiss. His hand slipped from my breast and into my jeans, passing my mound and parting my lips with an investigative finger.

“Mmmm,” I moaned as he entered me. It didn’t matter that his finger was dry going in. I was already wet enough to coat him thoroughly. And his hand was gone as quickly as it had come. My eyes shot open, only to see him sucking my juices off his finger slowly, pausing to circle his fingertip with his tongue before thrusting it back into his mouth.

“Yep, there was something…” he smiled at me. “But I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He tapped his finger on my lips, and I could smell the tang of my sex. I tried to snap my teeth at it, but he withdrew and let my hands go. “Now, how about that chicken Marsala?” He slapped my ass for effect.

“After you, sir. I might need your help in the kitchen, and surely I’ll need your company.” As he stepped away, I fell in behind him and pulled his hips to me, walking in step together as if we were one. And then I stopped us and rubbed the heel of my hand down his swollen zipper, reveling in the fact that he was as turned on as I was. He pushed my hand away.

“Hands off the merchandise, lady. Unless you’re buying.”

I pushed him forward. “Move along then. On to the kitchen. We’ve got work to do.”

The next two hours were spent making dinner and eating by candlelight. We drank wine and listened to music, talking of when he’d visit in late September and how we’d spend the three months between now and then. I told him to keep an eye out for Chris and see that he’s still doing well at the store. He laughed at my mothering tone.

“He’s a grown man, y’know.”

“I know, hun, I know. But I worry about him.”

Ryan just shook his head.

By the time the kitchen was clean, it was time to head to bed. “Tomorrow’s gonna be stressful…for both of us,” he said. I didn’t argue.

This man had been my lover for three years and a friend since two before that. He was all that I had wanted in a man but never found until now. I couldn’t imagine leaving him. We lay together tenderly, stroking and massaging each other’s bodies to the point of frustration. And then he made love to me. He kissed me tenderly and lovingly, moving on top of me, and pushing my legs apart with his knees. He took his time kissing my breasts and neck, nuzzling my collarbone and my hips. And when he entered me, he looked into my eyes, and we stayed there in exquisite intense pleasure, never breaking eye contact, maybe not even blinking. Tears fell slowly; he kissed them away. He moved on top of me as if we had the rest of our lives, as if this night would never end, as if tomorrow could be stopped if we just didn’t stop making love.

I didn’t rush him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to rest on the edge of oblivion for as long as he could keep me there. Long, slow strokes in and out of my sex, rubbing the underside of my clit as if it were a violin and his cock the bow. Tiny orgasms rocked me over and over again, until I was nearly exhausted. He kept kissing me, telling me he loved me, meeting my stare with strength of conviction, a dare to doubt him. And when at last he began to move faster and in a rhythm my body knew well, I met him thrust for forcible thrust and grunt for groan. I screamed as he tore into me, my legs up on his shoulders, his legs bucking, ramming into my already tender lips and clit. He leaned over, I gripped the headboard with my toes. He fucked me even harder. His arms and neck strained with the force of each thrust. I felt his belly and chest tense on my hamstrings. We reached such a force that I was bouncing off the bed each time he lifted off me. Every muscle in my body ached for release. And when it finally came, it was pure bliss; his cum splattering the walls of my pussy with hot streams of ecstasy. My legs tightened, toes curled, I released the headboard and wrapped my legs around him, holding him inside me to the hilt, filling me, stabilizing me, loving me.

We fell asleep almost immediately.

Chapter Eleven

A
nd then it was gone.

Life in Munich was like everything I’d imagined and nothing I’d ever experienced.

The company apartment was functional enough. On the day that I walked in, the front door swung open, and it seemed that the entire place opened in front of me and to my left. The kitchen was immediately on my left on the same wall as the apartment door; in fact, if I opened the door too wide, it might’ve smacked into the side of the kitchen cabinetry. Immediately to my right, as I stepped inside, were two book cases built into the apartment’s wall, abutting one another in the corner. There were books already on the shelves, some in English and some in German.
A nice touch,
I thought, immediately feeling like picking one up and settling in. To the left of the book cases and diagonal from the apartment’s main door was a balcony. I stepped outside and immediately noticed the trees in the courtyard, lush and green. After living in Las Vegas for so long, this shade of green felt surreal and nearly unnatural. I thought of reading books sitting here on this balcony, allowing the cool Bavarian breezes to waft unfamiliar smells of nature in my direction.

Stepping back inside, the main space of the apartment laid out before me. It was a modest functional space with a sitting area and coffee table on one end nearest the balcony, and a dinette set on the far end nearest the kitchen. The grey carpet was thin and functional. It was so tough and meager that it almost felt like indoor/outdoor carpet. There was an opening in the wall to my right, in the space separating the dining and living rooms. I assumed it was the studio’s bathroom, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover a hallway with a bedroom door on each side and the apartment’s one bathroom beyond them. Each room was furnished with the basic needs, nothing extravagant, lush, or even homey. I made a mental note to shop for more personal linens and things just as soon as I got the chance, a task I eventually asked a bright young employee to help me with as weeks had gone by, and it seemed I’d never have the time.

The day I moved into the apartment was the last day I remembered having any time for myself. I was busy most days, too busy to fully experience Germany, too busy to even know where in the world I was living. I might’ve actually been living back in Vegas if it wasn’t for the drastic difference in climate and greenery. Watching the seasons change for the first time in over a decade was done through the windows of the store. I checked stock, worked inventory, and opened the Huntington’s Sport chain for Europe—their first ever and a flagship store at that. The store was 200,000 square feet of retail floor space and activity areas, about 50,000 square feet larger than our store in Las Vegas. I worked hard to ensure that I stocked the shelves and arranged the store according to my best possible marketing plans. Some areas of the store were decided for me—the indoor golf driving range, the shooting range near the gun displays, and the water feature near the fishing gear. But the rest of the store was mine to design, stock, manage, and maintain.

The differences in culture and activities originally had me flustered, and sales floundered for my ignorance. Europeans required less gear for camping and spent more money on mountain biking and hiking. Setting up sales displays to focus on Volksmarching and minimalist camping was where I finally started to see sales picking up and customer throughput increase. I was exhausted by the time I got home each day.

And the time difference made talking to Ryan more difficult than we had anticipated. Daily video and phone calls faded to weekly, and by August, it was haphazard and random. We touched base in e-mail but it was unfulfilling and became more of a method for empty check-ins and attempts to schedule our next video or phone rendez-vous. Sadly, each of us had cancelled so many times that the other began to get frustrated, more ready to reschedule than to risk disappointment.

I missed him just as much as I had expected, and I resented him for making it sound like it would be a walk in the park. He knew before I ever left that I was afraid of this—these quiet moments, this time to think about our disconnectedness, about losing him forever. And still, he was letting it happen. He said we’d compensate with these calls, he had promised it, and yet he rescheduled or canceled more often than not. It was as if he didn’t want or need them.