Unsevered Read Free

absent.
    “Harley? Harley? Come back. Please don’t leave me again.”
    There’s no reply.
    He’s gone.

CHAPTER TWO
     
    M y body is locked in a sitting position on the bed for a few moments after I no longer heard Harley’s voice.
    My eyes scan the room until I spot a picture on the wall. I walk over and remove it from the hanger. It shows an image of Harley and I smiling, both red-faced from the alcohol we drank that night—and the fact that my friends had caught us making out when we’d just met. Damn smart phones are always handy.
    I run my fingers over the picture and close my eyes as the events from that night unfold in my mind
    * * *       * * *      * * *
    I was hanging out with Gretchen and Chelsea during karaoke night at a local bar. They dared me to find a male partner to accompany me on stage to sing  “I Got You Babe’’  by Sonny and Cher.
    “I’ll do it with you,” a voice from behind me said.
    I turned and saw a striking, olive-skinned specimen of a man. He had chestnut-brown hair and piercing blue eyes. His no-doubt, chiseled abs begged to be sprung from his midnight blue U.S. Air Force uniform.
    His face turned a crimson red as he stammered and backtracked. “I mean, I’ll  sing with you … if you want.”
    Heat rose to the surface of my face as he took my hand and escorted me toward the stage. Though I’m sure the tequila I’d enjoyed earlier played a part in my color-changed flesh, deep down I knew it was the electrical current that surged through every channel in my body at his touch.
    My heart attempted to talk me out of it right away, reminding me I shouldn’t go down that road again. I shouldn’t allow myself to care about another man who might one day leave me.
    I was pulled from those self-abusive thoughts when the man who was still holding my hand said, “I’m Harley, by the way. Don’t worry. I don’t bite … much.” He winked at me and my body sizzled in places I didn’t even know existed.
    “Jewel. Nice to meet you, Harley,” I replied, stumbling through every syllable. As we made our way to the stage, I turned and mouthed to my friends, “Oh my God.” My heart was sending flares all over the place, but my flesh was drawn to that stranger by an inescapable force.
    A few verses in, I discovered that he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but he sang his heart out as he devoured me with his eyes. I think the crowd may have sensed our undeniable chemistry as well, because they begged for a few more songs before we were allowed to escape the stage.
    I wasn’t ready for the night to end so we made our way to a table on the patio, away from the music and crowd. We sat and talked about everything under the sun. I first learned the basics. His favorite color? Blue. Favorite beer? Heineken. His favorite type of music was smooth jazz, but I would have guessed hard rock.
    It could have been the beer talking, but deeper into the conversation he opened up, revealing darker things about his life. His mother died while giving birth to him and his father took his own life soon after, unable to deal with the pain of losing his one true love. Harley spoke of it in an almost scripted manner, as if he’d had to repeat it so many times before that he’d become numb to the emotional stigma.             
    “Oh, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry,” I replied. I had no clue how to respond to his words, so I started talking about myself to ease the tension.
    “I’ve always had a pretty good relationship with my mom, but I can somewhat relate to not having a dad. Even when mine was there, he wasn’t always present, if you know what I mean. He was covered up with work most of the time.”
    He offered a soft, empathetic smile and our conversation continued.
    “So who took care of you when your parents died?” I asked as I scooped a mouthful of whipped cream off the top of my strawberry daiquiri. He smiled as he watched me lick it from the spoon.
    “My