His Wounded Light
Authors: Christine Brae
Copyright © 2013 by Christine Brae
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Copyright © 2013 by Christine Brae
Cover Design by Lindsay Sparkes
Editing by Erin Roth
Interior design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
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Part II: Darkness And Haze—Jesse
For anyone who believes in true love.
And for my
Street Team
. For your love, your passion, your loyalty and your friendship. And for sticking with me throughout this journey.
This is for you.
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They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Today, I see neither as I stare at the stranger in the mirror. There is nothing beautiful about me; I really don’t know what he sees. Even the dark circles around my eyes are cavernous and empty. They show no trace of someone who lives, only of someone who exists.
No matter how hard I try, there is nothing familiar about the person I used to be. I don’t know where to find myself because I don’t know where I’ve gone.
Who am I?
As I struggle to accept my fate, these are the things I know:
I am a mother and a sister.
I am no longer a wife.
I am someone else’s lover.
He took away my heart and the life we made together. I will never recover. This time, these wounds will never heal.
“Are you sure you have to leave tonight?”
The sound of his voice transports me back to the present, where I’m standing in his robe, in his bathroom, in his home. He encircles his arms across my chest and plants little kisses on my neck.
“Can’t you stay? I’ll take you home first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Sorry, I really have to go. I want to be home to see Eddie off to school.”
He tightens his hold and I relax my body against his. “You were absolutely amazing,” he whispers gruffly into my ear. “Stay with me a little longer. I’m not done taking care of you yet.”
One day at a time.
Tonight was all about forgetting but not yet forgiving. Filling but not replacing. And emerging from the abyss of loneliness knowing that I’ve pulled farther and farther away from the light.
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