Out of Focus #SYTYCW15 Top10 Finalist! [COMPLETED]

21| Possibilities

Eva loved summer storms, and today, the heavy weight of dense grey clouds rumbled with the promise of rain. Last night had been hell. A study in torture. Plagued with haunting dreams of Marshall--from his impressive body to his talented tongue--Eva woke in a tangled, knotted mess of unspent lust.

And, like those storm clouds, on the brink of erupting.

A strange and unfamiliar sensation she wasn't accustomed to. To say she'd never enjoyed or cared overly much about sex wasn't far of a stretch. Nate hadn't been especially gifted...or interested in doing much more than climbing on and getting off. Randy...well, he'd certainly seemed to enjoy her more than she had him.

Then there was the odd one night she'd taken for herself, here and there, and though they'd satisfied the itch, Eva couldn't say any of those had been much to report. So why was she all worked up over a kiss?

Because that kiss had done more to her body than any previous lover had ever come close to accomplishing. Because that kiss had awakened stirrings she didn't even know she had. And because she felt, based on an easy sort of primitive knowing, that this one was going to be different. Knowledge born from instinct and intuition.

The house was quiet. Too damn quiet. She'd sent the girls over to Lottie's for the day so she could have a few hours to work without distraction or disruption. With the weather a roiling mass of pent-up frustration, much like herself, Eva had decided that today was a day for focusing on her prints and edits, rather than beating the boardwalk for pictures.

Though the gloom and sepia tones would have lent itself to some impressive images, Eva wasn't sure she could trust herself being close to Marshall just yet.

Not while she had some much going on inside of her. He'd said he'd wanted more. Not necessarily a committed serious relationship, because that would be just plain weird, but possibility. And that was the one thing she couldn't give.

With Eva there could be no hope for that. All it would take would be one slip of the tongue, one tiny misstep and they'd be whisked away again. Ripping the girls from Nate was a hard reality she'd had to atone and accept responsibility for. Whatever her personal feelings towards him, he was a father who had lost his children.

There could be no greater agony.

She would not--could not--do that to someone again.

Shuffling through a sea of faces, Eva stalled on one she'd snapped of twin girls in matching sundresses. One in pink polka dots, the other in blue. Their hair pulled up high in curly little ponytails on top of their heads, standing with their parents, a couple of tourists puzzling over an island pamphlet.

They way their faces turned to each other, full of impish humour, a moment shared between them as they communicated without words, in a way only twins could. The same way she and Alyssa had so many times before.

Even as grown women they'd shared a connection no one would rival or come close to matching. An unbreakable bond.

Seeing those beautiful dark skinned faces with large, expressive brown eyes, brought back the hollow ache and brutal pain of loss experienced every Christmas, every Thanksgiving and birthday; a jolting, slap in the face reminder of the gaping hole in her heart.

A heart she'd locked away for fearing of losing anyone else. And now folded in on itself like an origami square, compressing into tight, packed little folds, so small it practically disappeared. 

And even now Eva trusted that somewhere in the world, Alyssa could feel her pain. Her grief and love and terrible aching loneliness, etched deep inside where no one else could see, or touch or know...