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Jackson

Marlow’s gone.

Just as the front door clicks closed, I open my eyes to find the empty spot where she slept curled in my arms not fifteen minutes ago.

I should say I’m surprised, but I’m not.

She was unaware that I saw the debate warring through her body language while she got dressed, unsure if she should leave, and checking on me. She doesn’t know that her voice filtered in from the living room when she called Tealey early in the morning hours.

No, she doesn’t know that I was awake. But I know she struggles with matters of the heart. Can’t say I don’t either, but I got myself into this situation, so all’s fair in love and war as the saying goes.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I know she didn’t want to leave. But I can’t help but wish she hadn’t and chose to stay.