Luna and the Lie

by Mariana Zapata

His gaze landed on me just standing there, holding my hands to my chest. I could see his eyes narrow. See the great big breath he puffed out of his mouth. I could tell his shoulders dropped, his hands going loose at the same time. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving.” Something inside of my freaking soul stuttered. My throat seemed to choke on every letter in the alphabet, and all I could do was press my lips together and, after a second—after that thing inside of me stuttered then stuttered some more—I nodded. But I managed to get the words out. “I didn’t want to bother you.” And Rip… Rip blinked. His nostrils flared. His chest went in and out, and he said with all the calmness I had never witnessed out of him before, “How many times I gotta tell you that you’re not a bother?” I held my breath. He made sure to look me right in the eye. “You need me, you call me. Any time. Any day. It’s that easy.” Why did that make me uncomfortable? “You don’t gotta do everything alone.”

WE’RE PROGRESSING