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Midnight Run

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2018
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Jack slumped against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed. He cradled his left arm as if it were broken. His face was pale and drawn and his strong jaw had finally stopped clenching. She watched him for several minutes. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal. His hands, which had been fisted in pain, relaxed. The furrow at his brow smoothed out. At least he wasn’t hurting anymore.

Surprising herself, she raised her hand and touched his lean cheek the way she’d done a hundred times in the months they’d been involved. The stubble of his beard felt rough and unfamiliar beneath her fingertips. She could smell his clean, masculine scent. Memories stirred uncomfortably inside her. She stared at him, remembering, hurting, regretting and wishing things could have turned out differently.


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