After the Fall

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Authors: L.A. Witt
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door clicked shut behind him, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the pillow. I was suddenly exhausted. My body had been dragging for the past few hours, but I’d kept finding a second, third, fourth wind because I just hadn’t been ready to come home. Dinner? Hell, why not? Wander through the grocery store? Sure.
    Of course that meant it had to catch up with me at some point. The aching was relentless, and it was everywhere. My head was pounding the way it did after I pulled an all-nighter before a big exam. A pain pill would knock me the rest of the way out. And I’d take one. In a minute. First, I wanted to . . . sit here. And not move. At all.
    I was starting to drift off when the front door opened. Blinking sleepily, I turned my head, and the instant I saw Brad, I was wide awake. He looked more exhausted than I was.
    “Rough night?” I asked.
    “You could say that.” He gestured at the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a beer. You want anything?”
    “No, thanks.”
    Once he had a beer in hand, he came back in and dropped onto the recliner.
    “That bad, huh?”
    He rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath. Well, it was no mystery where he’d been so late, then. Brad coming home at this hour in a pissy mood meant one thing and one thing only.
    “So did you guys get anywhere this time?” I hoped I wasn’t prodding a raw nerve. “Progress one way or another?”
    “Ehhh . . .”
    “That sounds like a no.”
    “Kind of. We . . . God, I don’t know what to do.” He rubbed his forehead. “I am so sick of all the bullshit, but I’m not ready to let him go.”
    “Are you sure you’re not just holding on because you want to be with someone ?” I asked. “Or maybe because you guys had something so good in the beginning, you don’t want to let go even though that part is over?”
    Brad shook his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think we’re doing CPR on a corpse. Sometimes I think if we work at it for a little while longer, we can bring it back to life.”
    “Assuming you don’t kill yourselves—or each other—in the process.”
    He grunted into his beer bottle before taking a long drink. “I talked to my mom last night, too. And she reminded me that if I love Jeff, I should let him go. If he comes back . . .” He sighed. “You know the rest.”
    I nodded. “Yeah, I do. She’s right, though. If he doesn’t come back, then, I mean, maybe once you both have some closure, you can move on, you know?”
    “Yeah. Maybe. All I know right now is that I’m not ready to give up on him.”
    Though I couldn’t help thinking they were both beating their heads against a brick wall, I had to admire them for putting this much effort into saving their relationship.
    It sure didn’t do much to convince me to jump back into the dating pool, though. I was all for getting laid once in a while—preferably more often than that—but not if the price was all this arguing and compromising and whatever nonsense. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in almost a year now, not since I’d walked away from that cheating asshole who had an overactive gag reflex except when it came to longneck bottles or his roommate’s dick. I was over that shit.
    Brad rubbed his hand over his face. “Maybe we’ll get somewhere eventually.”
    “Good luck.” I wished I had a scrap of optimism for them. I certainly didn’t envy them. Not at all. The more I watched those two unravel, the more I ached for both of them, and the less interested I was in getting involved with anyone myself.
    It just wasn’t worth it.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Brad stood in the kitchen doorway, fussing with his tie. “I can be a little late to work if—”
    “I’ll be fine.” I glanced up from pouring myself another cup of coffee. “I’m going to be wearing these things for almost three months, and I’ll have to get myself around sooner or later.”
    He scowled. “Yeah, but ‘sooner’ means you’re probably still

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