Beautiful Burn (3 page)

“
You
can't leave me, Reed. What about a family…” We'd had the kid
conversation multiple times, but it'd never felt like the right time.
Now I knew why.

“
I'm
sorry. I need to get my head together. I feel like…” I tried to
swallow down the words, lock them in my throat to shield her from the
scar it would leave, but I was desperate for honesty. “What I want
has changed.”

“
Reed.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think I haven't changed? That I don't think
about a different life sometimes with someone better off, less
moody?!”

I
remember I'd clenched my jaw so tightly it'd ached. Mel was always
pressing me to make more money, do more with her friends and their
husbands. I was tired down to the marrow of my bones of all of this.
“I'm sorry Mel, I am.” I muttered sincerely, though still
determined. “I’ve just lost me somewhere in this life we’ve
created…” I trailed off because there was nothing more to say.
That last statement was the crux of my deep-seated unhappiness.

I'd
sat silently, watching her work the words over in her head. The pain,
the anger, the frustration, the confusion. After all, we had
everything. I was a teacher at the high school we’d both attended
in our small town of Sutton's Bay, Michigan, where she was a
substitute teacher waiting for a permanent position. We'd married in
college and bought our first home, a four-bedroom ranch on a quiet
cul-de-sac, with a heft downpayment from her parents. I'd protested,
uncomfortable with taking anything from them, but Mel had insisted,
and I'd relented.

But
at some point, our dream had crumbled before our eyes. She grew
irritable waiting for a teaching position to open up in our small
town and began talking about moving to a bigger district. The stress
mounted, and before long we were bickering more than loving. Two
years of fighting later, and I'd finally come to the sad conclusion
that adversity doesn't always bring two people together, sometimes it
shines a spotlight on the things that aren't working, magnifying them
until you realize that love isn't always enough.

“
I’ll
get a hotel tonight.” I'd stood, grabbing the packed duffle that
I'd tucked behind the recliner near the door.

“
Reed…”

“
This
is for the best, Mel. We both know it.” I'd said, my muscles aching
with a bone-deep fatigue I'd never felt before.

I suddenly found myself
wondering if the instant attraction, the spark that came to life when
Auburn and I were together, was something I'd drummed out of a
fantasy. Maybe I only felt that way because my marriage was falling
apart, because I was looking for a distraction from all the things on
my mind.

But that wasn't how it felt. It
felt like the earth had slammed to a halt when our eyes connected in
class two days ago, all but erasing the last three years. It felt
like my heart galloped at triple speed when she laughed. It felt like
the soul-shattering awareness that comes when your soul connects with
it's match.

I
poured my second cup of coffee before nine am and settled on the
small balcony that overlooked the quaint downtown. I'd rented a tiny,
one bedroom along main street in a remodeled Victorian.

Fishing my phone from the
pocket of my shorts, I took another sip as I basked in the sparkling
summer morning sun and checked my work email. It wasn’t uncommon
for students to message me in the wee hours of the morning as they
toiled over a paper, all too often looking for extensions, but I was
surprised to see an email from Auburn in my inbox. Too curious to
even consider waiting, I opened the email with the subject line that
read “HELP!”

A long jumble of run-on
sentences greeted me. She was on the so-called writer's ledge, I knew
that moment – that point in the book where the writer would rather
hide under a rock than write another word.

My eyes scanned the text again
as I thought of her writing the frantic email at three o'clock in the
morning as the timestamp indicated. Smiling, I suddenly found myself
thrilled at the thought she was thinking about me in the early
morning hours. I wished I could see her in person. I wanted to see
the way her dark hair melted to golden brown tips in the sunlight,
all wavy and windblown like she spent every day outside. How had I
suppressed how much she captured my attention before?

I thought briefly about
emailing her back and offering to meet her for coffee to hash things
out, but then thought better of it. I had to be cognizant of the
position a friendship with her put me in…
us
in. An
ultimately impossible one.

Calm down. Remember what we
talked about? Write about LIFE, in particular how life FEELS.

I hit send and before I’d
read through the entirety of the next email on my list, my inbox
chimed.

I can’t. Please, I need
help. I have nothing. Inspire me.

Inspire me. Jesus Christ, what
did she mean? My fingers twitched as I wrote back the one question
that wouldn’t stop rattling around in my brain.

How can I inspire you?

I rubbed my fingertips
together, my breaths shallow and distracted as I waited for her
response. I didn’t have to wait long.

Give me anything.

“Anything?” I mumbled
aloud, setting my phone on my knee as I considered her words. I sat
like that for five minutes, her name staring out at me like a beacon
when it dawned on me that she should not be emailing me at my school
address. Not that anything incriminating had been said, but the
innuendo that bounced between us was nearly impossible to deny.

Before I could think twice, I
sent her a quick reply.

Email
me here —
[email protected]

And I waited. I distractedly
scanned my other emails, checked the morning's headlines, before
giving up and stumbling in for my third and final cup of coffee. In
my defense, they were small mugs, at least that's what I told my
doctor. I settled at the desk tucked into the corner of my small
living room, when my phone vibrated with a new email. Curious, I
opened the app for my personal email on my phone and found the
message I'd been hoping for.

This is me emailing you
here.

I grinned as I read her reply.
I was becoming addicted to her words, she'd always had a playful
sarcasm about her, a smart mouth and even smarter mind behind it. I
couldn't wait to see her again.

Perfect. Are you busy
tonight?

I typed before I could think
and immediately hit send. Then I took a moment to process the
possible disastrous implications of those words.

***

“I have to say, I'm a little
worried about what it says about my moral compass meeting you out
here all alone.” Her amused voice carried on the breeze as she
approached. I turned to take her in. Just before sunset on the lake
was a sight to behold, but seeing it shine off her rich hair and
coppery skin sucked the air from my lungs.

I'd made quick work of securing
the old rowboat I rarely used anymore to the top of the Blazer and
met her out here at Stony Point. “Smart girl. Safety first.” I
lifted my lips in a crooked grin. “Step in.” I stretched a hand
out to her. One eyebrow rose for a millisecond when she stepped to
me, lifted one foot and then the other foot behind her, and carefully
took off each of her beat up Chucks before her long leg stretched
past me and into the precariously balanced rowboat.

“Can I trust you?” she
whispered breathlessly as she stood beside me, our hands still
clasped, the breeze lifting her hair and trailing it across the rough
stubble of my jawline. She smelled like cherry blossoms after a soft
spring rain laced with notes of honeysuckle and lavender. My eyes
drifted closed as I inhaled and relished in a scent so uniquely hers,
so tied to my memory of her that it transported me to some safe place
under the veil of a star-crossed sky where pain and heartache didn't
exist.

“With my life,” I murmured,
drunk on her proximity, my heart beating so fucking loudly I swore
she could hear it in the inches that separated us. My eyes zeroed in
on her slightly parted lips, a strand of errant hair falling across
her neck and teasing at her collarbone. She finally smiled and
released my hand, her other foot planting itself inside the boat.

“Ready, captain?” I waited
for her to sit before I pushed the boat off shore and leapt in.

“It's chilly.” She rubbed
her palms together and looked out to the horizon.

“Sorry, I should have told
you to bring a sweatshirt.” I frowned and prayed for calm winds. A
trip across the bay could be miserable with just a cool breeze. I
watched as she dropped one hand in the water, ripples fanning out as
her fingertips skimmed the surface. A half smile curved her lips as
she watched. She looked like she didn't have a care in the world at
the moment, and I envied her.

Gentle rocking swayed us as I
took hold of the oars and pumped. I was used to this, relished the
slight burn in my biceps, the tightness in my already tightly etched
abdominals as I worked. Rowing was one of my favorite forms of
exercise. I never got into the whole gym scene -- I got outdoors. I
loved the woods and water too much to not spend all my free time in
them.

“Is it safe to be way out
here like this...in a rowboat?” Her words whispered across the
wind, brown eyes wide, worry becoming evident on her face.

“I've done this a hundred
times. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I must not really be a
boat person. I hope you’ve got a bag,” she laughed while shaking
a cigarette out of her pack. “Want one?” She held the wrinkled
box out.

The urge to indulge in one
cigarette surprised even me. “I’d rather share one.” And with
that simple statement, my stomach dropped, my mind fell, and I lost
my
moral compass. I wanted her. She was forbidden and taboo
but our past pulled at us. I was older, her teacher, still married,
and I fucking wanted to possess her. Own her. Make her scream and cum
and beg for more. What the hell was I thinking?

A half smile tilted her lips as
she lit the cigarette in her mouth, sucked a long draw, then held it
out to me.

“Put it in my mouth.” My
eyes locked with hers.

“With pleasure,” she cast
me a sexy look before holding the cigarette in front of my lips. I
pulled it into my mouth, wrapped it around my lips and inhaled. I
blew the smoke out as my eyes landed on hers. I found them riveted.
Not on my eyes, but on my lips. My suddenly parched lips. I exhaled
and flicked my tongue out to trace a path of dampness across the top
and bottom. Her mouth popped open for a fraction before she closed it
again, her eyes darting up to mine before she pulled away.

“You’re a bad influence,”
I finally said.

“I could say the same for
you.” She released a sardonic laugh before taking another draw as
she looked out to the dark, lapping waves against the side of the
rowboat. “Where are we going?”

“Old Mission,” I answered.

“Really?”

“Sure. Why not?” My
forearms burned with the delicious tingle of muscles being pushed to
the limit.

“Why not just drive it?”
She shrugged and puffed again, looking at me thoughtfully.

“Hey–puff,
puff, pass.” Her eyes widened before she shook her head and held
the cigarette out to me, one elegant arm extended in the moonlight.
Captivating smooth lines and curves. I sucked the cigarette into my
mouth and took another quick puff and blew it out. “What’s the
fun in driving? You miss the experience. That’s what you asked me
for, right? Inspiration? Here it is, you’re living it, baby. Soak
it up.” Her laugh carried on the air around us and had me pumping
faster, more determined than ever to get there. I was anxious to show
her what I had in store.

“Great. I’m all ears. Hit
me with inspiration.” She gestured with her hands in a way that was
both awkward and endearing.

“Turn around.” I indicated
over her shoulder.

Her head whipped, hair flying,
before a soft, “Oh,” escaped from her lips.

“Pretty cool, huh?” I
slowed my rowing as we approached the shoreline of the slim peninsula
that darted into the bay. I relaxed my arms, feeling an
uncharacteristic fatigue burning at my muscles. I rubbed at my neck
and shoulder as I watched her stub out her cigarette and shove the
butt into her pack.

“It feels like the end of the
world.” The rowboat scraped sandy bottom Auburn launched into the
water. Her shriek filled the silent breeze around us as she hit the
water, my laugh following while she ran up to shore. She’d only
been in up to mid-calf, but I doubted the waters of Lake Michigan had
risen to a comfortable swimming temperature yet.

“It’s beautiful.” She
stood in awe on the beach while I pulled the boat out of the surf.

“It’s my favorite time to
come.” We stood shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching, yet close
enough for platonic feelings to be choked out by more intimate ones.