Sean

Fingering the wilted petals on all her roses, Anna gazed at the serene water as I turned the truck onto the gravel road leading to her parents’ cabin.

I’m sure she figured our journey through the past would end here, where we began, in the spot where I learned how to love her. 

Anna hadn’t said a word since we’d left the lookout at Mansfield Dam, listening intently as I explained the meaning behind the lyrics to the songs serenading us in the background—“Crimson Pain,” “Rue the Day,” and “Sunshine Smile,” my three contributions to the Caged catalog. All for her. 

Cutting the engine, I took in the grandeur of the willow tree. Moonbeams filtered through the snarl of branches, lighting tips of the drooping leaves here and there. 

Earlier today, Willow accompanied me to the cabin so I could set the scene. Since it was easier to cut across the lake, we took my boat, and as we’d floated down the inlet, I’d pointed out the special tree, telling my daughter as much as I could about its storied history. 

When I finished, Willow looked from the tree to the ink on my bicep. “Like Ma’s.” 

“Just like Ma’s. Daddy drew it.”

“Why?”

“For you, Willow-baby.” 

It was true. I’d sketched the tree when Willow was nothing more than a hope, some distant future that only existed in a dream. 

Tracing the gnarled limbs with her tiny fingertip, Willow had nodded, as though she’d just put it together, the pieces of our story, Anna’s, hers, and mine. 

When we reached the shore, Willow scrambled from the boat, racing toward the tree she was named after. And then as she watched, I added her initials to the heart I’d carved in the trunk for Anna and me all those years ago. 

No matter what happened tonight, the circle was complete. 

Anna’s soft whisper knocked me from my haze. “This is the end of the road, huh?” 

I took her hand and brought it to my lips for a kiss. “The road so far.”

She blinked at me, doubt or fear shining in her eyes. Then she slipped out of my grasp and opened the door, jumping to her feet without a reply. 

It’s not going to work . . .

Until that moment, I never entertained the possibility.

Glued to the seat, I watched as she plucked a stray rose from the gravel. Then another. She had a handful by the time I got out of the truck.

“Careful,” I warned. “Don’t step on any thorns.” 

She shifted her gaze to the sea of roses, laid out like a red carpet from the edge of the cobblestone path to the door of the cabin.

“Oh, God . . .” 

Since Anna wasn’t wearing shoes, I had an excuse to scoop her up and carry her the rest of the way. 

Sliding her arm around my neck, she asked, “How many roses did you buy?” 

I chuckled. “All of them.” 

I’m not sure Anna believed me until I shouldered my way through the door. Dozens more roses sat in vases and Mason jars on every table, their vibrant peach petals muted by the soft glow of the candles strategically placed throughout the room. The dainty little buds arrived this morning on a truck from Tyler, Texas, where roses of all colors and sizes were grown year-round.

“I know the red ones are your favorite,” I said, easing her onto the couch. “But I like the peach.”

“Why?”

She knew the answer. It was always the same.

“Because they remind me of you.” 

Taking a seat beside her, I placed a worn composition book in her lap.

Anna looked up at me, confused. “What . . .”

“Humor me. Open it up.”

She did as I asked and when she turned to the first page, her eyes widened. “This is eight years old.” 

“I must’ve given you the wrong one then.” As I tapped the stack beneath the coffee table with the toe of my boot, the little tower crumpled and landed in a heap at her feet. “I’m sure there’s an older one in there.”

I can’t say I was sorry to see the tears drop onto the dog-eared pages as Anna read. With every bit of ink that ran, my optimism grew.

Anna thumbed through the book, scanning some items and stopping to read others over and over. 

Hours later, after she’d gone through every spiral pad, bound notebook, and binder, her eyes found mine. 

“You told me you wanted to be the reason, and you are,” I said, glancing over all my confessions. “You’re the reason for everything. I wrote all of this stuff before I ever knew Willow existed. Most of it after I left. And if you ask me ‘why,’ the answer will always be the same. Because I love you.” 

Anna refocused on the book resting in her lap. “But that wasn’t enough before. I wasn’t—”

“You were enough, baby. It was me that was lacking.” I took her hand, looking down at the emerald ring. “Do you remember when I gave you this?” She responded with a little hum, and I laughed, the sound brittle to my ears. “I was so fucking pissed at you that day.” 

Looking up, I met the shocked expression I knew I’d find.

Before Anna found the words to ask why, I continued, “I thought if you agreed to marry me right then and there it meant that you’d never leave.”

She tilted her head, confused. “Leave? I was seventeen. Where was I going to go? I told you I’d marry you after—”

“After you got out of school.” I hissed out a breath. “I know. I remember.” 

I remembered everything, but now I saw it clearly. Tipping forward, I rested my elbows on my knees, still holding her hand. 

“It took my mom almost two years to die.” Anna went still at my abrupt change in topic. Or maybe it was because this was something I’d never shared. “When she went into the hospital the last time, she packed everything up, stacked all her clothes with instructions for which charities they should go to. She sat me down and told me,” closing my eyes, I swallowed hard, “she told me it was going to happen, that she was going to die.”

Anna tightened her grip, and I bit the inside of my cheek, a habit I picked up way back then so I wouldn’t cry.

“Anyway,” I went on after clearing my throat, “she may have thought it was time, but nothing happened right away. She just kept getting weaker. Sleeping more. Then one afternoon she didn’t wake up. Melissa cried, but I couldn’t understand why. Because she was going to wake up. She told me before she went to sleep we’d play cards . . . after.”

I met Anna’s gaze with a sad smile. “But there was no after. She died the next day. And even with everything I knew, everything she’d said, I was shocked.” I shrugged. “I guess that’s when it started, this feeling I’ve always had.”

Anna rubbed small circles on my back. “What feeling?”

“That everything could end in the blink of an eye. It’s a restless kind of thing. I felt that way with you sometimes.” All the time. I kept that to myself because there was only so much I could admit about this particular weakness. “So I figured, you know, if I held on tight enough you wouldn’t disappear.”

“But I didn’t,” Anna said, confusion suffusing her tone. “You did.”

Laughing softly, I shook my head. “This is going to sound like an excuse. It is an excuse. But that doesn’t mean it’s not the fucking truth. Fact is, I couldn’t deal with the separation. I had to stay or go—no in between. So I decided to go. But not before I burned everything to the ground. I thought . . . I thought I’d forget about you eventually. Like…”

Too much. I’d said too much. And now I could feel Anna waiting for the end of the sentence I couldn’t push past my lips. 

After a long moment, she slid forward, and we were side-by-side. “Like what?”

“Like my mom.” It took a second for me to swallow the shame and continue. “I never forgot her, I just put her memory away. But one day when I tried to retrieve it, I couldn’t see her face. It wasn’t like that with you though. I saw you everywhere. So I tried harder.” 

I didn’t give Anna the details of all the methods I’d used. She could probably guess. The fact that it was always her face I saw when I was with another woman wouldn’t provide any comfort.

“Did it work?” 

I laughed. “Never.” 

“It didn’t work for me either.” 

I welded my back teeth together, the thought of her with someone else causing me pain in places I didn’t know had feeling. When the silence turned heavy, I gathered enough air to force out the last of my truth. 

“I love you, Annabelle. I can live without you. I’ve done it before. But please don’t make me.” 

Spent, I fell back against the cushions and waited. I was always waiting for this girl, and whatever her answer, I feared I always would. But if Anna couldn’t find a place for me in her heart, I’d stop pushing. 

“I love you, Sean,” Anna finally said, so low I had to strain to hear her. “I’ve always loved you. But I can live without you too.” The weight of her last statement hit me like a ton of bricks. I was still reeling when she eased back and sighed. “I just don’t want to.”

The words rolled off her tongue, tentatively, and it took all my restraint not to grab her and worry about the rest later. But I didn’t want to blow up the bridge we’d just built. It was a rickety little structure, propped up by memories, some good, some bad. 

Twisting a lock of her hair around my fingertip, I ventured, “Does that mean we can negotiate the terms for my surrender?”

She tensed. “I don’t . . .”

Cupping her cheek, I tilted her face to mine. “My surrender. Not yours.” 

Doubt lingered in her eyes, thick clouds, seeded with every misstep on our broken road. I had more work to do if I didn’t want our bridge to crumble. Love wasn’t enough. Not then and not now. But it was a start. 

“Okay, here it is,” I began after a big breath. “First, I’d like permission to rent a house in Waco. But don’t expect me to wear green.” I wrinkled my nose. “We can negotiate on the kid’s attire if it makes you feel better, but I’m sticking with orange.” Ignoring Anna’s dumbfounded expression, I eased her onto her back. “Second, will you consider living with me at some point?” Her brows drew together, so I amended, “Part-time. I’ll do part time if that’s what you want.” Emboldened by her nod of ascent, I slipped my hand under her shirt. “Third, can I take you away for spring break? Alone. We don’t have to go far. San Antonio or Padre Island. Maybe—”

Her mouth collided with mine, and I twined my fingers into her hair. Our tongues battled, and I ceded to her wishes, letting her take the control she’d always had. She explored me hungrily, possessively, and I tasted everything in her kiss. The good and the bad. The sweet and the bitter.

I pulled away when my head began to spin. “I wasn’t finished.”

Anna smiled, and it touched every part of her beautiful face. “I’ll agree to all your terms if you agree to a couple of mine.” 

“Done.”

Her smile grew. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

I didn’t need to hear it. But in order to maintain some dignity, I pretended to mull it over.

“You’re right. Let’s have it.” 

“Don’t ever shut me out,” she said, her brows scrunched up as if she were asking for the moon. “Whatever it is, just talk to me. We’ll work it out or we won’t, but nothing you could ever tell me is worse than you leaving without a word.”

Nodding, I pressed my lips together.

I’d vowed not to bring Willow into our discussion, lest Anna think that anything I’d professed was because of our daughter. Even if Willow didn’t exist, I’d like to believe we’d have found our way back to each other. But because she did, I’d never disappear again. Not for four years or four days or four hours. 

“What else, baby?” 

I expected some monumental demand, so I was surprised when she said, “Just . . . love me.” 

Love her . . .

I pushed off the couch with a sigh. “You need to learn a thing or two about negotiating.” 

“Is that so?” 

I toed off my boots, then pulled her against me. “Yep.”

Somewhere between the kisses and the groping we made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing on the dusty floor. Limbs tangled, we dropped onto the old mattress. 

Braced on my forearms with Anna beneath me, I looked into her eyes. “Asking me to love you is like asking me to breathe. I don’t have a choice, baby.” 

Anna rubbed her foot against my calf, and I went stone still when a soft beat echoed in my head, distant and unrecognizable. 

“Do that again.” 

She smiled a funny smile and repeated the motion. “This?” 

The beat got louder, more distinct. 

Reversing our positions, I settled her on top of me, so she straddled my waist. As I ran my hands from her knees to her hips, a chorus of strings accompanied my movement. Anna didn’t put the music in my head, but without her, I couldn’t hear it. She was the muse. 

As I plucked the little scar on her knee, a bass drum thundered in the background. I don’t know how long I spent lost in the beat, brushing my fingertips over the same swath of skin, but apparently, it was long enough for Anna to get worried. 

“What is it?” she finally asked.

Startled out of my euphoric haze, I shook my head. “You. Just you.” 

Cupping her nape, I guided her mouth to mine for a kiss. Before our lips met, Anna slid off me with a laugh and then fished my wallet from the pocket of my jeans. Retrieving the condom from the folds, she lifted a brow. 

I shrugged. “Wishful thinking.” 

Anna climbed on top of me, and as she ripped the foil packet, I pressed my hand to her taut belly. Maybe someday she’d give me another baby. When she was ready. Right now, I had everything I needed. Anna and Willow and music. Not the kind I played in front of thousands of people. The kind that was all for her.

The steady hum between my ears grew louder as she sank on top of me, taking every inch until there was no her and no me. Just us. Dropping her head back, she moaned, adding lyrics to her sweet song. 

“That’s it, baby.” Slipping my hand into Anna’s hair, I rocked against her. “Play for me.”