Page 96 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Kendra

The door shuts with a thud.

A literal barrier between me and him.

Luther.

The man…

I pull in a gasping breath.

I didn’t see that coming.

I should’ve seen it coming.

I don’t look back.

Don’t need to see him go.

Luther is leaving.

For good this time.

I walk through the house. Straight through to the back door.

Through the backyard.

Through the grass.

To the edge of the woods.

And then I step through the trees.

I keep going until I can’t see the house behind me.

Until there’s no one around.

Then I let my legs give way, and I sit in the dirt.

The tears are still falling.

My breathing is still choppy.

But I’m quiet.

Only my inhales give me away.

He didn’t choose me.

I close my eyes, and images of Luther fade in and out of the darkness.

Memories.

Feelings.

Wishes.

My spine loosens, one vertebra at a time, and I lie down on my back.

Pine needles catch in my hair.

A branch digs into my side.

But I don’t move.

I feel it.

I feel all of it.

That’s something I learned from my therapist.

I learned how to feel it.

How to feel the bad, the unknown, the uncomfortable.

Feel it. Let it live. Let it die. Let it go.

Right now, the bad is alive.

It will be alive longer than I want it to be.

But if I don’t feel it.

If I don’t let myself accept Luther’s words, then I’ll never move on.

Tears still trail down from the corners of my eyes into my hairline. But they’re falling slower.

I fill my lungs all the way.

And I hold my breath.

Then I let it out.

Another breath. Another exhale.

On the next breath, it hits me again. The hurt.

And I let it live.

I let the hurt fill my chest, same as the oxygen.

Because the pain is true. The pain is as alive as I am.

But it won’t beat me.

Won’t defeat me.

It will just hurt me.