Page 112 of Sunday Morning
“My family?”
He doesn’t know?
I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t know what to say.
“You mean Matt because they were his friends too?” Isaac asked.
Had I not had another funeral to attend or just stormed out of my house, I would have told him. Out of everyone, I wanted to be honest with Isaac because I believed what we had would last—maybe for a lifetime. His trust mattered the most.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “They were Matt’s friends too.”
The lines of confusion on Isaac’s face vanished. “I’ve wanted to call.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, well, don’t call now. I think I just ran away from home.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I blew up at my dad and ran out. I have a dress for the funeral in my car that I parked at the tractor turnaround. Then I walked through the pasture.” I lifted my foot. “And I got poop on my shoe.”
“You’re homeless?” He lifted a brow.
“Yes. Can I sleep in the barn?”
“You can sleep in my bed.”
I gave him a dead stare before casting my gaze on the ground between us. “Can we just go back to Nashville?”
“I’ll drive.”
I reached for him because I loved him for saying that.
“I’m filthy,” he said, taking a step backward and holding up his hands.
“I don’t care.” Again, I reached for him.
He took another step away. “You have to put on a dress in a few hours.”
Everything was falling apart, including me. The only hands that could put me back together were his.
“I-saac …” His name shattered as it fell from my quivering lips.
With his brow furrowed, he grabbed my face and kissed me. I curled my fingers into his shirt, tugging it, needing him to be as close to me as possible. If I could feel his heart beating against my chest, I thought mine would remember to keep beating too.
Everything ached bone-deep. The blank space Heather and Joanna left inside of me needed to be filledbefore I crumbled into something irreparably broken. It was a hundred degrees outside under a cloudless sky, but I hadn’t seen light in days. My world was dark and suffocating.
I shoved Isaac’s shirt up his sweaty chest, and he pulled it over his head and removed mine. As he walked me backward, we kissed, and he discarded my bra.
“Make it better,” I whispered while his whiskery jaw brushed my neck. “Make everything better.”
He closed the door as we stepped into the tack room, fighting for leverage to remove each other’s clothes. The need felt unquenchable—a runaway passion so raw it brought tears to my eyes.
I loved Isaac more than anyone. He didn’t earn it the way Matt earned my love. It wasn’t bestowed by genetics. I didn’t fall in love with Isaac. I found myself in love with him.
In him, Ifoundmyself.
“Ohgod …” I tipped my head back and closed my eyes when he lifted me onto the bench and filled me. “I love you,” I whispered as we moved together with my legs wrapped around his waist.
“You’re my beautiful Sunday Morning,” he said, kissing up my throat, dragging his tongue along my sweaty skin. “You’re my every morning.” He teased my earlobe. “And I thank God for you.”