“Of course I would,” he answers and then sips his coffee, but his voice is flat and so is the thud in my chest.

Like it’s given up.

It’s wrong, so wrong. Something is badly fucked up in my head knowing that I trust a beast like Marcus over Cody Walsh.

“I’m going to see my sister this weekend,” I say to change the subject. “And my mother.”

Cody only nods and the silence prolongs itself. There’s only the chatter of other patrons and a ding at the door when someone leaves.

“Did something change?” Cody asks with a hint of pain in his tone.

“It does feel different, doesn’t it?” I respond with my own question, my walls up and solid as stone.

“I don’t know,” he says then shakes his head and huffs, his thumb tapping on the side of the mug in front of him. “I don’t know if you’d even let me kiss you right now.”

Tink, tink, it’s the sound of a lifeline. The moment slowing between us and I’m so very aware that I’m the one left to make the deciding factor.

There’s one reason why I lean in and kiss the man who I’m certain is lying right to my face, as I’m doing to him.

It’s because I want to, because I love him. And more than anything I want him to know that he is loved. Even if we are lying to each other.

I want to pretend it’s only the shadow of a kiss, and that it will stay there on the black and white penny tile of a coffee shop, where our story can change with every new couple who sits in these seats. But it’s not. It’s the bittersweet, sad kind of kiss, the one where you don’t want to move away because it feels so final if you do move.

His lips are soft and his hand cups the side of my head, holding me there. I’m grateful for that, for all of it.

Everything up to this moment has felt like a lie, everything but this kiss and the next words spoke.

With his forehead resting against mine, he inhales in relief but exhales slower.

“You know I’ll keep you safe. You know I care about you, don’t you?” With his question spoken, his eyes peer into mine and he pulls back.

He pulls back in that way that makes me want to move closer to him.

“I do.” I really, really do. “You know I’d do the same, right?” I ask him.

“You don’t have to, though.”

It’s a sad smile that plays quietly on my lips. That’s the only response I can give him.

Delilah

The numbers on the digital display climb and climb while the smell of gasoline lingers. The wet spots on the cracked asphalt prove whoever was at pump three before me left droplets right where I’m standing.

Leaning against my car, I glance up at the lone vehicle that drives down the small-town road this gas station resides on and then check my phone again. It’s an old town and just across the street are houses long overdue for renovations. I couldn’t imagine living there. Maybe a long time ago it wasn’t like it is now. Some other time a lifetime ago.