Lotus: Second Chance Love with Romantic Suspense

by Jennifer Hartmann

I much prefer the monsters I create myself. I prefer them because I always win.

tears. “I remember everything about you, Oliver. You were real. Your life before what happened to you was real.”

I see more life and vitality in those eyes than I’ve felt inside my soul in the last twenty-two years combined.

Sydney is gone, but she leaves a little spark behind. I suppose she always has.

Our stare is heavy, as it always seems to be.

try to pretend how things would be if he hadn’t disappeared for twenty-two years, if he hadn’t suffered through horrors that we only read about in fiction novels. I wonder what Oliver Lynch would be like right now, on this very day, standing in his window, facing mine. I muster up a smile, despite the pang of heartache I feel cinching my chest. And then I close the blinds.

I also savor the dazzling look in her eyes. I decide that I much prefer this one to the look I saw yesterday.

Oliver responds so softly, I almost don’t hear him. “I always save you.”

My lips pull up into a small smile, an instinctual reaction to her statement. I am liked.

“Do you like music?” “I’m not accustomed to it. Perhaps…” The rate of my heart increases with an unexpected request that lands on the tip of my tongue. “Perhaps you can introduce me to your favorite music.”

I feel my walls cracking, my armor crumbling, my nerves and tension dissipating. And I’m not sure if it’s the pleasant melodies filtering out of the speaker, the cat settled on my shoes, warming my toes, or the look in Sydney’s eyes right now. All I know is this is certainly a look I’ll be keeping.

He looks genuinely happy to see me, and that sends my already weakened heart into a fluttering mess.

“I enjoy your smile as well. It makes me want to smile more.”

There is nothing juvenile about Oliver Lynch. While he does have a profound innocence about him, he’s not at all childlike. Oliver is all man, from the muscles peeking out beneath his cropped sleeves, to the rough stubble along his jawline, to the low, gravelly sound of his voice, to the brilliance of his mind.

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.

Goose bumps tickle both arms, sheathing me in a flurry of new sensations and an unexpected feeling of…contentment. Fulfillment. Belonging. Home. When his eyes find their way back to mine, I realize we are both breathing heavily, our faces inches apart.

I ask him softly, timidly, our hands still connected, “Will you be my friend, Oliver Lynch?”

Oliver releases a surrendering breath, and his lips draw up into a smile that matches mine. A weight lifts. “I would like that.”

She is, by far, the most perplexing, endearing, complicated, beautiful, and charming human I’ve come across so far.

There’s no doubt Sydney will look stunning in that dress. All eyes will be on her. Perhaps I fear the wrong eyes will be on her.

“Your suffering matters more to me than the joy of fifty acquaintances and strangers. I hope you know that.”

“I’m sorry for my indecency,” Oliver forces out, a crack in his tone. “I wasn’t aware there was a lady present.” Sorry that my whore eyes just drank you up like a tall glass of water.

His eyes are ablaze as they sink into me, coasting over my curves, and he answers easily, “Sometimes I think of you.”

“I never want to go back there.” I shake my head, adamantly. “You won’t. It’s over, and you survived. Do you trust me?” Another slow nod. “You’re the only one I trust.”

The magic of this moment, of watching fireworks with the boy who’s taken up the biggest piece of my heart, here on our secret hill we used to lie on side by side, takes my breath away.

Peering down at himself, he frowns. “It appears my pants are singing.”

“Lies are unbecoming of you, Syd,” I tease, still unable to meet her gaze. Her warm palm is wrapped around my arm, transmitting little tremors to my heart. I think I hear her gasp. “You called me ‘Syd.’” I finally find the courage to glance up, discovering a wondrous look on her face. “Is that all right?”

“I know who I am,” I mutter softly. “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.”

“The truth is, sometimes I’m envious of you, Oliver. People haven’t desensitized you. Relationships haven’t broken you. Society hasn’t poisoned you.”

“What did it feel like to you?” My mind is still spinning, my thoughts dizzy and blurred. I’ve never felt anything like that before, so I have little to compare it to, but I try to explain it the best I can. “Like every star in the galaxy tumbled to earth and crawled beneath my skin.”

He hands me the lush flower with soft-hued yellow petals. “Do you like it?” Of course I like it. It’s the sweetest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I might actually burst into tears.

Oliver studies me, his eyes glinting with gold. “I have a hard time believing that.” I can’t help but feel offended as my arms cross defensively. “Why is that?” “I have a hard time believing someone could kiss you and regret it.”

Oliver nods a farewell, and it feels like a farewell, and I panic when he steps out the front door. My voice betrays me as one hand clamps around the doorframe, holding me back. “We’re okay, right?” He promised. Oliver spins toward me as he walks down my stony pathway, still pacing backwards across the lawn. “Of course.” My desperate smile is matched by his smile of concession. And as I clutch the lotus flower to my chest, I have no idea why that hurts so much.

Oliver is a grown man, becoming stronger and more confident every day. He’ll get a job, he’ll settle down, he’ll fly free like the birds he watches in fascination from his front stoop. He’ll flourish. He’ll probably change the world one day. And I can’t hinder that.

I glance up, seizing his curious gaze with my own, watching an assortment of emotions darken his cinnamon-tinged eyes. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. God, me too.

Sydney laughs at her own joke, lassoing my heart in the process.

The effect she has on me, both physically and emotionally, has grown to a confusing level over the past few months.

But Sydney got out. She ran from that burning building, while I remained trapped inside, hardly able to catch my breath. I’m still there, waiting to see if she’ll ever return for me so we can face the flames together.

I clear the tickle from my throat. “I’m a bit enamored by her,” I admit, though the revelation is far from shocking.

She is fierce. She is goofy. She is beautiful. She is Syd.

Her compliment dances across my heart, prompting my own smile to spread. Wise eyes. I thought the same thing.

She turns to me, our faces so close I’m afraid to pull my eyes to hers. The magnetism is too strong, the distance between us too slight. If I look at her now, I’ll be lost. But I do. And I am.

Her gaze flicks to my mouth, the gesture fleeting, and yet it clamps around my heart and pins me in place while I fight the urge to kiss her.

“You’re an amazing man, Oliver Lynch,” she breathes into my hair.

She just wants to be friends. 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.

Oliver stares at me, his longing evident, and I feel myself crumbling. Ruin.

Oliver moves in until our noses touch, and I wet my lips, noting how they quiver with anticipation. God, I shouldn’t. God, I really fucking want to. Memories of our last kiss sweep through me like a carnal typhoon, and I tilt my chin up on instinct—the final permission he needs.

Everything changed the moment he came back.

“There’s no way you could possibly feel what I’m feeling, what I’ve felt, from the moment Gabe told me they found you. That you were alive. You have no idea what it was like to be haunted by you for twenty-two years, then to hold you in my hands, flesh and bone, like you were back from the dead. You couldn’t understand any of that.” Sydney’s fingers curl tighter around my wool sweater, her gaze tormented. “So, no, Oliver…we don’t feel the same. It would be impossible.”

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.” “You don’t know that…” A defeated breath spills out as I duck my head, dropping my hands from her face that is now reflecting wet streaks. I’m not sure how to breach her fears. I’m not equipped to tackle her ghosts. I haven’t acquired the proper tools.