I read his entry again and shoot off a text.
I’m sorry, too. Come home. I love you.
On my way.
Went for a run.
He’s upped his runs to three a day. For the last week, he’s been more and more on guard. On good days, when I get home from work, I find him waiting with a breathing bottle, usually in the kitchen before he delivers a breath-stealing kiss. After dinner, we play chess, often until the late hours, talking, laughing, and exploring each other’s bodies until we exhaust ourselves. On Thanksgiving, we dined alone together, stuffing our faces and splitting the wishbone, his win, before target practice gave a whole new meaning to a Turkey Shoot.
Though the secrecy is nothing new, it’s been gnawing at me constantly since his confession, and I’ve been patiently waiting for him to finally reveal what cards he’s got plastered to his chest. Often, I catch him in a daze, features twisted, eyes haunted, completely immersed in his thoughts, and I’ve given him ample time to come clean.
And he continues to fail me.
More than once, I’ve witnessed him drink himself to the point of passing out, an apology on his lips when I manage to get him to bed. And it’s infuriating that even the drink that’s loosened his lips in the past hasn’t aided in bringing forth his confession at all.
His drinking would worry me more if he didn’t take such immaculate care of his body. For now, I allow it because of his admission. It helps to stop his errant thoughts and calms him to the point he’s able to sleep, which as of late, he’s been doing less and less of.
If he came clean now, I could ease his burdens. He would keep his promises to me, but he hasn’t, and odds are, he won’t.
As of now, our watchful birds are becoming relentless, often dining at the café, and as of a few days ago, they started flanking me when I run errands, walking me to and from my car. They’re on high alert, and I know why. They’re becoming just as agitated as their boss.
It’s infuriating for me to know that’s the truth of it, and he’s still hiding behind our truce to keep from telling me.
It’s not hard to keep myself guarded when the deception at this point is so blatant.
Secrets tore us apart, and I have zero doubts they’ll do it again—if I let them.
But while he’s been sharpening his flock, readying them, I’ve made some decisions of my own.
I have to force his surrender so we have complete transparency.
It’s the only thing that will fully heal us.
Until I get that, I won’t stop seeking the truth from him.
On this, I won’t break. I won’t waver, no matter how much his kiss begs and his eyes plead.
So, for now, even with our truce in place, even as we draw closer than ever before, we remain at an unspoken stalemate.
I’ll keep him just a breath away from where he so desperately wants to be from fully regaining my trust.
This is war. I’m not just fighting for the truth anymore—I’m setting boundaries for the future.
This time, I’m determined to break my king before he breaks me.
Age Thirty-Three
Ocean blue eyes gaze back at me as she hovers above me, fireflies dancing around the tall grasses surrounding us, the moon translucent between the trees. Warmth snakes into my arms, making them heavy, almost impossible to lift, the soothing rush circulating through them threatening to pull me back into the dark. Still, I fight it because she’s here with me, whispering to me, kissing me, her presence soothing, like no other comfort I’ve ever felt. Straining, I can’t hear her whispers as I fight to stay with her, the moon behind her glowing brighter now, rising high above the trees. Her lips move again as she reaches for me, but I can’t make out the words she’s speaking. The menacing orb hovers just above now, its glare brighter than the sun, threatening to take her with it.