44

Rita

We spend the night talking. Then having sex. Then talking some more. I tell him about my parents, about Cait. I share insecurities and secrets with him, things I hate talking about with anyone.

I end up falling asleep in his arms. The sound of a car crash ringing in my ears. The sound of an event nearly twenty years ago, reverberating up through time, still changing the present.

"Sleep in," he whispers as sunlight streams in through the windows. I'm groggy, cuddled around a pillow. "I'll be back later."

"'Kay," I mumble and watch him go. It's a little past seven in the morning. How can that man stay up fucking me half the night and still drag himself out of bed for work?

I sleep another few hours. When I finally get up, I shower, make coffee, and sit in the living room sipping from my mug, admiring the new climbing shoes he bought me. They're not broken in yet, but they will be soon enough. I turn to the window, smiling to myself.

So much about him makes sense. Born poor, raised