His Reverie
formatted by
E.M. Tippetts Book Designs
Books by Monica Murphy
One Week Girlfriend Quartet
One Week Girlfriend
(Book #1)
Second Chance Boyfriend
(Book #2)
Three Broken Promises
(Book #3)
Drew+Fable Forever
(Book #3.5)
Four Years Later
(Book #4)
Billionaire Bachelors Club
Crave
(Book #1)
Torn
(Book #2)
Savor
(Book #3)
Intoxicated
(Book #3.5)
Owning Violet (coming soon)
Connect with Monica
The future
I’m not good enough for her.
And I know it.
But it doesn’t seem to matter to her.
So it doesn’t matter to me.
The only thing that matters
is
her.
She is my everything.
My heart.
My soul.
They found out who I am.
What happened to me.
Where I’ve been.
Even though they don’t know the truth.
They tell me we can’t be together.
They try their best to keep us apart.
But when she’s not by my side.
It’s like a piece of me is missing.
I’m numb until I see her face.
Catch her smile.
Kiss her lips.
Hold her in my arms.
I come alive.
She loves me.
I love her.
No one can keep us apart.
We won’t let them.
I sometimes wonder if she’s a dream.
A figment of my imagination.
But then I touch her.
Feel her skin against mine.
Her lips on mine.
Her tongue on my…
You know.
And I realize that this dream.
Is my reality.
My Reverie.
The past
I’
m a new man. Reborn on this late spring morning as I walk out of the county jail, breathing deep the fresh, warm air.
When had I last inhaled air that wasn’t tainted by the scent of sweat, illegal cigarettes and that always-present hint of desperation? Eleven long, agonizing months ago, that’s when.
Finally I’m out. Finally a judge listened to me and my county appointed lawyer and realized the evidence against me couldn’t stand. Yes, I’m the dude in the jailhouse yard proclaiming to anyone who’d listen that I was innocent. They all say that but I’m telling the truth.
I didn’t do it. I never even saw that guy that night. I was seventeen and dumb and my friend was dumber and the next thing I know, he’s making statements against me, claiming I murdered someone and he helped me.
Murdered.
“Nick!”
I turn at the sound of Mom’s voice and see her standing in the public parking lot across the street, her hands clasped together as she beams at me. I can see that familiar smile even with the distance between us and I instantly feel young again. Ten years old and insecure and desperately needing my mama’s love. Tears prick the corners of my eyes and I fight them off, blinking like I got something in my eye. I will not fucking cry.
Spending nearly a year in jail forces you to man up. I have seen things I can’t unsee. Had things happen to me that I can’t…
Nope. Won’t go there.
Pasting a smile on my face, I jog along the crosswalk toward Mom. She’s leaning against her faded gold 2000 Camry, wearing beat up jeans and a bright green T-shirt, looking so familiar, so much like the mom I know and love and missed so damn much that the tears threaten again.
I pull her to me the second I stop in front of her, her face smashed against my chest as she quietly falls apart, her shoulders shaking with her silent sobs as she holds me tight. But these aren’t sad tears. I can tell the difference, since I’ve seen her cry enough to last me a lifetime.
“You look so good Nicky,” she says, her voice muffled, her breath hot against my shirt. “It feels so good to hug my baby again.”
I’m all she has. We’re all each other has ever had. That I was taken away from her hurts me still. She put on a brave face every time she visited me. Told me everything was fine, she was fine, she had enough money, she missed me but hey, she had to get used to me leaving sometime. We just didn’t plan on it happening like this though, did we?
Ha, ha funny joke. Easy to say when she’s not the one behind bars but I don’t hold that against her. She didn’t know how to cope with her only child in jail. She did the best she could.
“Mom.” I grab hold of her skinny arms and pull her away from me so I can look at her. Really look at her. “Are you okay?”
The smile hasn’t left her face, though her cheeks are beet red and tears are streaming down them. “I’m wonderful now that you’re standing here in front of me.”
My stomach growls so loud she hears it and bursts out laughing. “Some things don’t change, do they Nicky? Always led by your gut. Come on, let’s get you fed.”
We get into the Camry, the lingering scent of her familiar perfume hitting me the minute I shut the door. The same crystal dangles from her rearview mirror, and when she cranks the engine, her favorite radio station blasts out of the tinny speakers. I feel at home. Comforted by the normalcy of the situation compared to my completely abnormal existence this last year. It feels good.
You never realize how much you miss normal until it’s gone.
“Where we going?” I ask as she turns onto the main drag of our small coastal town. I grew up here. She grew up here too and when Dad told her he hated this Godforsaken town (direct quote) and he wanted the hell out, she told him he could go on ahead and leave then. Since she didn’t fight him, he did, moving up to Washington, where I visited him for one Thanksgiving, one spring break and one month of summer before he got into a motorcycle accident and died that following fall.
