Sunrise Fires (24 page)

“The man you left behind when you went to Germany is dead. Think of it that way, and do not try to force my son back into that old mold. I wanted to see you over for dinner tonight because I wanted to see you interact with him. You leaving today; it reeks of cowardice. This will not be easy, and I’d rather my son start new with someone else.” Maybe she wasn’t accepting us after all. Maybe this coffee idea was a pretty bad one. I still had a long drive ahead of me, and this was a terrible way to start it.

We sat in silence for a long while. It was likely only four or five minutes, but it felt like twenty. I wondered if it was my turn to speak, if she was waiting on me. I had so much to say, though at the moment, sentences weren’t readily coming to my head. I cleared my throat, feeling as if it was now or never. “I love him,” I began not knowing what I’d say next. “I love him as much as I ever did. I was wrong and selfish in my insecurities and fears. It hurt him and you and….” I was so relieved that these were the words that were flowing and not the angry defensive ones that also sat just behind these sentiments. “And I am so sorry.” I reached across the table and grasped both of her hands. “I loved you as much as any daughter-in-law could love a mother-in-law, even more. I loved you as a friend and advisor. I loved you as Ryan’s mother.

“He was the love of my life. I knew that then, but feared that I was not his. I know what you said. I heard you, and, in that moment, it felt so reassuring and real. I am sorry that that feeling faded or was washed away in the sea of my insecurity. I cannot help that now.” I did not know where these words were coming from, but she hadn’t stopped me yet, so I kept going. “What I can do is love him still and always. I can build with him a relationship that we fashion together. I don’t expect or even require your blessing,” she squinted at me, her lips a thin line, “but I would like it. And what’s more, I would like to rebuild a relationship with you.” I stopped. The words stopped stringing themselves together in my head, and I was blank, afraid of her reaction and hoping that I had not said too much.

She squeezed my hands, looked me in the eyes, and nodded. “I will wait and see how this goes. I will not discourage him anymore than I already have, but I am not hopeful about your future. I respect this.” She motioned to the table. “It took guts to invite me out alone. Without Ryan here to shut me up, I had no idea what I’d say to you. I respect that, and it reminds me of why I liked you.” I beamed and squeezed the one hand that remained in mine.

“It does not mean that I like where you and Ryan are going. Trying to recapture the past is impossible. And trying to overcome such pain is something I cannot fathom. I am willing to watch and wait. You leave a lot more now with this new job, I understand. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I do, but—”

“And you expect that these trips will be different for you emotionally?”

“Yes, they are. They are already. I—”

“And are they different for him?” My mouth sat agape. “Or is each one another little Germany relived?”

“I…I hadn’t thought of it that way….”

She asked more questions and made points on how difficult the road back into Ryan’s life would be. She said that he may accept my role for a time, but she didn’t know if he’d ever trust me in a lifetime way again. She asked if I could find peace in that kind of love—a partial love—a love that was not going to ever reach the heights of our previous relationship. She pressed me for my intentions and for my level of commitment to our success. We spoke in a respectful but wary way. By the time noon came, I was exhausted. I couldn’t believe that it had only been an hour.

Her phone vibrated and chimed. “I have an appointment, so I have to go.” I nodded and smiled weakly, looking for some sign that this had gone well. She didn’t oblige me. “Thank you for the coffee and the conversation.” I moved to get up and hug her, but she held her hand out and waved me off. “Don’t get up. I’m in a rush, nearly late already.”

“Thank you for meeting me, Mrs. Riverton. I really appreciate the time and opportunity.”

“Yes, yes. It’s fine.” She sniffed dismissively. “Appreciate my son.” She looked at me sternly. “Appreciate his time and the opportunity he is giving you now. Appreciate that, and we will have begun something.”

And with that she left me sitting there alone in the patisserie. The smell of the pastries no longer brought the comfort that it had an hour ago. At this moment, I wanted out of there and back to the smell of the ocean and my condo.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he drive home was awash with memories and feelings, all revisited through the new shades of perspective that Mrs. Riverton had added and the new revelation of Mark’s suicide and Ryan’s abandonment of riding. I reconsidered him and me and what we might become. My new job had me on the road a lot, and his had him comfortably living there in Las Vegas. Would we ever live with or near each other again? And what about this dirt biking thing? I wanted so desperately to see him in that specific happy place again, to watch him ride and to feel the joy rolling off of him; but was that selfish of me too? Was Mrs. Riverton right? Was Ryan really a whole new man? One who no longer desired riding, who no longer found joy in it? Was I wrong to want it for him again, to want him to find that joyous place on the track again?

I passed up the Zzyzx exit and smiled, remembering how he and I had talked about meeting there back when we were online chatting before we ever met. It was the precise midway point between our homes at that time, and, even though there wasn’t a town or solid rest stop there, we thought that meeting there might still be memorable and special to just the two of us. I had pictured camping in the nearby state park and maybe hiking through the trails. Maybe Ryan could even bring his dirt bike. I smiled at the memory of having been so full of anticipation about meeting him after so long.

I drove on and continued to reevaluate all that had happened, smiling, laughing, or crying as the memories washed over me. I loved Ryan and couldn’t imagine life without him playing a role…even if it was not as my romantic interest. I relived some of our most intimate passionate moments, like the way his hands felt on my body, how his lips and tongue so adeptly stoked my bodily responses, bringing us further into passion and sexuality. His lips on my neck this morning had felt exactly as they always had—loving, tender, and warm while also being insistent and sensual. My pelvis responded to him, seizing and melting, dampening my panties and hardening my nipples. I could feel him touching me still. Always. Just a passing thought in that direction and he was again in my presence, my body responding, reacting, igniting, ablaze with desire for him.

By the time San Diego came into view, I was exhausted emotionally and physically. I fell onto bed as soon as I walked in the door, not even bothering to change my clothes.

*   *   *

Ryan and I met two weeks later on my last weekend before the trip at the National Park off Zzyzx. It was a nostalgic weekend of reconnecting and making new memories. When I had suggested it to Ryan, he was instantly on board. We camped among the trees and hiked through the days. On the second night, as Ryan built the fire, I pulled a couple of beers from the cooler we’d brought.

“Do you think we can make it?” I asked, handing him one of the bottles.

He looked at me over his shoulder. “The fire?” He smiled. “Oh, I got this. I did fine last night. I just need a minute.” He winked and turned back toward the fire pit.

I smacked him on his ass and plopped down on a nearby log that we’d dragged over to make a bench. “You know what I meant.”

“And I don’t have the answers. I know that we’ll make it through this weekend.” The kindling caught fire, and he blew on it, encouraging it to grow. “I know that I’m enjoying you and this time together. Ask me about that stuff. Don’t ask me about the future.” He stood and joined me on the log as the fire slowly crept its way around the remaining wood in the pit. He kissed me as he sat down. “I love you. I know that. And now…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I think we’ve about exhausted what I know at this point.”

I leaned into him. “Liar.”

“Wanna eat?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

We worked together to roast hot dogs and pull together a camping-fashioned dinner. I liked how much closer we’d become over the past month or so; I wanted it to continue. I was leaving the following week for the UK and had a sickening feeling of déjà vu tickling the deepest recesses of my mind. I worried that somehow this short trip, after such a period of healing and rebuilding, might actually be the end of us. In my head, I knew it wasn’t true, but a part of me feared it anyway. I watched him move around the fire and the campsite, his muscles flexing and moving, the fire casting playful shadows across his jawline. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I wanted to; I wished I could see thru this dim light of dusk, past the smoke, and through my own fears and insecurities into the comfort and reassurance that his eyes held. My eyes traveled over him as he moved. God I missed his body. I missed touching, stroking, holding, pulling, dragging, playing, sucking, kissing, nibbling, nuzzling, fucking. I wanted him now, as much as ever. I’d have preferred to have him for dinner instead of the roasted hot dogs and beer. I handed him a bun as he came back over with paper plates.

He took a stick from me and wrapped the browned hot dog in the bun. “Dinner fit for kings,” he proclaimed, setting the dog on a plate and handing it to me. I laughed and handed him another bun. “What? It’s perfect. Fast, easy, smoky, yummy.” I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Maybe ‘yummy’ is up for debate. But still.”

As we ate, we joked and laughed. I stole opportunities to touch him, and he didn’t resist me. Later, as we lay on the blanket in front of the fire, I kissed him, tasting the charbroiled hot dog flavor and reveling in this moment. I propped myself up on one elbow and looked into his eyes. “I love you, Ryan.”

He was staring up at the stars, his arm folded behind his head as a pillow and his other hand resting by his side. “I love you, too, Jennifer,” he replied absently.

I turned to stare at the stars with him, lying there shoulder to shoulder, both lost in thoughts somewhere up in the heavens. His shoulder rolled a bit and his arm followed; his hand snaking its way on top of mine, and his fingers sliding into the curl of mine. I squeezed them and still we laid there. Out here in the wilderness, away from everyone else, in the sounds of nature and surrounded by the stars that you can never see from the city, we felt whole and completely sated. I needed for nothing else. I wanted only for this time with him to last. The canopy of trees above us held small groups of twittering nestling birds and the occasional hooting owl. The wind rustled through the leaves, and they waved a shrugging naïve shy hello to us lying so far below. The smell of pine, dirt, and decaying leaves rode the wind into our campsite and across my body. The fire was hot on my right side, and his body warm on my left. The night air chilled the tips of my nose and toes despite the fact that I had shoes on. I could hear his breathing and feel his pulse as it beat in his fingers.

I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but, at some point, the howl of a distant coyote and the bitter nip of the desert night woke me with a start. The fire had died to smoldering embers, and Ryan and I were still lying there uncovered, except for the extra layers of clothing we were wearing. I watched him sleeping for a few minutes, his lashes holding his eyes bound shut, seemingly tied to his cheekbones. His lips, plump and relaxed, begged to be kissed awake. His chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of deep slumber. I smiled seeing him so peaceful. The moon shone bright enough to light the campsite in a grey silhouette. I took advantage of the light to open the tent and arrange our sleeping bags before waking and coaxing him back into the warmth and safety there.

“Mmmm.” He drowsily pulled at me after he was inside his sleeping bag. I kissed him, his lips warm and meaty. My heart sped up as his tongue pushed into my mouth and his hand wound around my waist. We kissed slowly, sleepily, tenderly, gradually building in intensity. His hand moved up my body and into my hair. Grabbing a handful, he pulled my head back, released the kiss and bit and kissed the taut muscular line of my neck that he’d exposed.

“Ahhh,” I moaned. My skin came alive at his touch—goose bumps rose, a chill ran up my spine, and my pace quickened even further.

“You smell amazing.” His voice was guttural, animal, and sleepy. “…always smell so fucking good.” He bit my neck and pulled me further into him, giving him better access to the side and back of my neck…and to my ear. “I’ve missed you, Jen. I want you. I want you so bad.”

His voice bounced off my eardrum, each beat was a tiny stroke against my clit. Blood rushed to my cunt, and I struggled to maintain a solid breathing pattern. “Baby,” I rasped, “you feel so good.”

He suddenly stopped. His eyes flew open and met mine in the inky black that surrounded us. He unzipped his sleeping bag and pushed me aside, smoothing it out. I smiled knowingly and unzipped mine, handing one side to him. We spread it out on top of his and zipped them together. I missed this, the old way we slept together, before Germany, before everything was all screwed up. I took off my jeans and sweatshirt and slid into the sleeping bag bed, zipping up my side. His arm fell out, opening the spot where I always used to sleep. I placed my head on his shoulder and snuggled into his side. His arm draped behind me, his hand loosely at the small of my back, lazily stroking with sleepy fingers.

He lifted my chin and looked at my silhouetted face. I could see nothing more than the outline of his head but was reassured by his breath on my cheek. “This is amazing, Jen. This weekend, this time together. I never stopped loving you.”

I melted a little at that moment, drawn into him soulfully and completely, wanting the kind of connectedness that feels complete. I wanted to crawl into his body, wrapping him around me as a jacket and disappearing into him, into us. “Me neither. I never stopped loving you either. And I don’t want to. I never want to stop loving you.”