Breakaway

Chapter 3 - Breakaway

DANA

"Drink your wine." Eric had gone back to the kitchen, taking the half-full bottle with him. "Not enough to get drunk. Just enough to take the edge off. It'll help."

As soon as he said that, he downed the last of his glass.

He was right. I needed to calm down some after all of this. I was exhausted from all of my travel, from the emotional drain of talking to him about this—but I was also wired. It was a strange and decidedly uncomfortable combination.

I sipped on my wine, let it flow through my body until I was a little warm and tingly, in a good way.

"What...uh? Damn." He dragged his hand through his hair, mussing it up until it looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. "What do you want to do tonight?"

That question was way too open-ended. This couldn't be all about me. He had his own life to live, too. I licked my lips, savoring the sweet taste of wine there. "What would you and Kim do when you had a night off like this?"

As soon as I said her name, I regretted it. Kim had been his girlfriend for years, so long I was sure they were going to get married. They'd looked great together, just the kind of girl a professional athlete should be with. He'd even talked to me about rings one summer. But that was before he'd come home from a road trip and found her in bed with a then-current teammate who'd been left behind to rehab a broken foot.

It'd been two years since their breakup, but still. I doubted he wanted to think about her right now. As far as I knew, there hadn't been anyone since. He might still be hurting from it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"We'd probably sit and watch TV together for a while." Eric didn't look upset to me. He should have. It would have been easier for some reason if he were upset. "She'd lean against me and I'd wrap my arms around her, hold her close. Then we'd go to bed, and either make love or just go to sleep. That's what most of our nights in were like. Easy. Relaxed."

That sounded exactly like the Eric I knew. He was never the flashy type, never wanted to go out and party or anything. He typically got more than enough excitement from his job; he needed comfort at home.

I swallowed hard, trying not to let my panic set in about the implications of all he'd said. "We could maybe watch TV together."

I didn't say anything about having his arms around me or going to bed. I couldn't think about things like that. Not now.

"Okay." Just like that, he went into the living room and turned on the TV.

When I joined him, he'd left me plenty of space to sit beside him on the white leather couch, or if I wanted, I could sit in one of the two recliners. But that wasn't what I was here for—separating myself. I needed to push myself, to push my boundaries so I could break through them and come out on the other side, hopefully still in one piece.

I sat on the couch—not quite pushing myself up against the far arm of it but close. Eric was well on the other end. Not close enough to touch me.

I didn't know what show he'd turned on. I wasn't able to focus on that right now. Just trying to remember to breathe, to keep my pulse down at a normal level—those kinds of things took up all of my mind-capacity and there was nothing left to worry about a silly TV show.

After a while, I started watching Eric instead of what was on the screen. It was easier to think about him, anyway.

He had his right leg tucked up underneath his left, a white athletic sock sticking out beside his left knee, just like he'd always done when we were kids. I guess he'd taken his shoes off while I'd been upstairs. I hadn't noticed until now.