Lotus: Second Chance Love with Romantic Suspense

by Jennifer Hartmann

The lotus flower is an emblem for rebirth in an assortment of cultures, as well as eastern religions. It has attributes that correlate perfectly to the human condition: the lotus will bloom into the most magnificent flower, even when its roots are in the murkiest of waters.

My lips press together to keep the emotions at bay as I observe this man, processing the realization that I was never far from his mind during those years he was locked away, lost and afraid, just as he was never far from mine. We stayed connected. He turned me into something tangible, beautiful and real. He brought me to life in the only way he knew how.

“I know who I am,”

“I’ve had twenty-two years with myself. I want to learn what makes people tick—what drives them. I want to experience raw emotion, inspired by other humans. Love, passion, companionship.”

Sydney tightens her hold on my hand. “It’s not so simple. Some of us wait our whole lives and never really get to experience those things.” That sounds absurd to me. “Why is that?” “Because we’re a fucked-up, complicated species prone to self-sabotage, baseless insecurities, and the notion that there’s always something better around the corner. We’re constantly chasi...

“What did it feel like to you?” “Like every star in the galaxy tumbled to Earth and crawled beneath my skin.”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You have all the power.”

One week without his closeness, his quirks, his charm, his beautiful soul radiating into me, and it felt like a part of me had withered away.

And I suppose, if this is how it feels to yearn for more, to desire, to become attached…perhaps Sydney has been right all along. It tears people apart.

There’s no denying the pull between us, or the sparks that flicker and scald like tiny embers when our eyes collide, ocean on sunset.

“It’s a hell of a thing,” he says, still facing away from me as I come up behind him. His breath escapes in icy puffs. I’m at his side, our shoulders kissing. For warmth. “What is?” I wonder. Oliver strokes Athena right between the ears, his gaze twisted with sorrow as he watches the animal’s claws latch onto the front of his shirt. “Letting go.”

Casual sex is one thing, but my relationship with Oliver is anything but casual. It’s everything

The risk of permanent damage is too great, and I refuse to cross that line.

“You’re going to lose me by trying too hard not to lose me, Syd.”

There’s a hurricane in her eyes, and it’s either going to swallow me whole or leave me crippled, on my knees, lost and alone among the wreckage.

“You need to, Oliver. This thing with Syd… It’s not going anywhere. You’ll be in this soul-crushing, back-and-forth limbo forever. Get out there and enjoy yourself.”

“It’s important to have people in our corner, rooting for our successes,” she agrees. Tabitha’s head tilts slightly to the right as she finishes chewing her chicken. “And sometimes we need to be our own cheerleaders.” My eyes case her thoughtful expression. “How so?” “We need to fight for what’s in our hearts. No one else can do that for us,” she tells me pointedly. “And if there is anything on this earth worth fighting for, it’s love.” Love.

“You heal me. Every day you put another piece of me back together,” he insists, crossing the room, cautiously approaching. “Why do you associate attachment with suffering and loss?”

“God, who hurt you, Sydney?” “You did!” I shriek, unplanned and untethered, my hysteria bubbling over. “Something inside of me fucking died the day I lost you!” Oliver freezes in place, his eyes flaring, his limbs going completely still. He stares at me, slack-jawed, with the most wounded, bewildered look upon his face. “I started building walls at only seven years old,” I

continue, my voice ragged from the grief spilling out, a tsunami of bottled-up ghosts. I ambush him with my graveyard. “Day by day, those walls went up, made of stone and brick and steel and you. I couldn’t let anyone in because I couldn’t bear to feel the way I felt after you disappeared. Not again…not ever. You have no idea what you meant to me. What you mean to me.” The heel of my palm slams against my chest with clenched teeth. “Syd, I…” He lets his voice trail off, lost for words. I keep going. “I’ve spent my whole life keeping people at arm’s length because it’s how I cope, how I protect myself. And yes, I’ve been with men, that’s no secret…but it’s never meant anything.” I find his eyes, and they are just as tear-filled as mine. “With you, it would mean everything and that scares the shit out of me.”

“It appears we continue to hurt one another, despite our greatest efforts not to. It’s a paradox.”

“I prefer ‘aware of my surroundings.’” He shoots me a teasing side-eye. “Looks like your surroundings are equally aware of you.”

“When I was five years old, I gave you my heart on your front porch, and you gave me an oatmeal cookie, and I’ve thought about that moment every single day for over two decades. Even when you were gone, you still held my heart.”

“I’m not gone anymore, Syd.” His palms find my face, clasping my cheeks, tears slipping through his fingers. “I’m right here, with you, and I’m still holding on to your heart. Please don’t ask me to give it back.”

“You always deserve what is meant for you, and if anything is meant to be, it’s us,”

It’s a magnificent arch cased in silken skin and a speckling of freckles that resemble the Milky Way. Sydney doesn’t know this, but every time I kiss those tiny stars, I make a wish.