Crash and Burn
JACKSON
She was still asleep.
That much I was sure of.
My night was long—restless, and in the middle of insomniac Hell, I replayed the piece of Heaven I’d just had hours earlier as I laid on Delilah’s couch.
Thinking of Penelope. Contemplating. Remembering. Reminiscing…
Mentally touching the throbbing places I’d just placed my hands all over.
And s**t, maybe my subconscious was right; maybe it was a ploy.
A way to trick my mind into believing that I wasn’t doing what I was really doing. A way to stave off the anger, the frustration, the resentment, the regret…
Because I knew I’d never see her again.
It was over.
Daybreak f*****g smacked me like a ton of bricks that morning and as the sun barely broke over the horizon, I was already back in my car, warming the sea
