I’m not sure how long I stayed in the car but it was long enough for the windows to fog up and for the humidity to seep inside. My skin was clammy, my stomach in knots and my mouth dry. I checked my cell phone once more but there were no text messages. Nothing in my voicemail.
I bit my lip and cursed. Maybe he was inside. Maybe someone had borrowed his truck.
Are you that fucking stupid?
It was nearly eight by now and I was either going to leave or…
I pushed open the door and ran up the steps to Ben’s front door before I lost my nerve and with my heart in my throat I rang the doorbell and waited.
And waited some more.
I rang it again and tried to peek through the window to the right, but it was no use. I couldn’t see inside but it was now official. He wasn’t home.
I took a step back, smoothing my light blue cotton skirt over my hips as I bit my lip in frustration. Where was he?
All sorts of things raced through my head and all of those things ended up with Ben in bed with some bimbo. The bimbo he’d met at the airport. The bimbo who’d yanked out her tits for him to sign. I was shaken and hated how affected I was by the thought of him with another girl.
He wasn’t mine. He didn’t belong to me.
“Whatever,” I muttered.
I ran down the steps and paused. Did I really want to go home and play nice while Matt tried to get rid of whoever the hell it was who’d moaned her way through several hours the night before?
No. God no.
I took a sharp left, following the path that led through Ben’s back yard, through the trees that surrounded it, and out to my barn. My studio.
He could fuck whoever he wanted. I was going to show him that I didn’t care. This was my space and I would spend the day painting and Ben Lancaster could go to hell.
I worked on a piece I had started a few days earlier and just like all the others lately, a large gaping mouth opened in the very center of the canvas. The face was androgynous with undefined features and as I stared at it, I knew this person was screaming. Screaming to get out. Screaming to escape.
Screaming to live.
I grabbed my tools and got to work and it was hours before I put down my brush and stood back, admiring my handy work. The air was thick with humidity. It stuck to my skin, shrink-wrapped my white tank top to my body and filled my nostrils with summer.
My heart was beating fast and I exhaled in an effort to calm myself, running a hand through the thick, tangled waves of hair that fell past my shoulders.
I took a step back, my eyes moving to the window. Outside the rain washed the glass in a blurry stream and the images beyond weren’t clear. I saw color. Green. Pink and purple. Brown.
I took a step toward the door, my mind racing and it felt as if my skin was pulled too tight. Before I could think about it, I tossed my white flats and stepped out into the rain.
The grass was soft beneath my bare toes and the colors I’d seen from inside popped. Grass. Flowers. Earth.
Raising my head to the gray sky with my eyes closed, I stood there, letting the gentle wash roll over me and slide down my body. I still felt heavy but the rain was somehow light. It was warm and the sound of it in my ear was calming.
Several long moments passed and with each of them I felt the tension lessen. The heaviness evaporated like raindrops on heated blacktop.
I glanced toward the trees. I saw their branches bend toward me, beckoning me, and slowly walked toward them until I disappeared inside their embrace. The rain still fell, cleansing the earth, maybe cleansing my soul and by the time I cleared the forest my body was humming something fierce.
I was in hyper mode and I swear I could hear the grass growing, the ants beneath their shadow, scurrying through the puddles…the blood rushing through my veins, the frantic beat of my heart.
I rubbed moisture from my eyes—was it tears or rain? And it was then that I saw him.
Ben stared at me from across the yard. He was shirtless, hands shoved into the front of his jeans and rain soaked hair a mad mess that clung to his face and neck. He was far enough away that I couldn’t see his features clearly, but I felt him.
I felt him as if he was pressed against me. As if he was inside me.
Time did that funny stop-watch thing. It slowed down and froze.