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Fifty-two

Author: Curvywrites
last update Last Updated: 2025-10-21 17:24:14

Him

After my father died, my mom did what she did best - she ran. She packed us up and moved us across the country, changing our names to erase who we were. Back then, I didn’t get it, but now I do. She wasn’t just running from pain; she was running from memories, from herself, and from everything she couldn’t fix.

The sound of the rain on the bridge snapped me back to the present. I could feel the cool iron beneath my fingers, much like the feeling of those moments when the snow smelled of nights she laughed, careless and alive. The past was never far away, but for now, I was here, facing the endless complexities of today.

My mom was a free spirit. A hippie who could find light in the darkest moments, who smiled more than she cried. Even when she told that she had cancer, she spoke like it was nothing. Her voice was light, and her eyes - brown and full of warmth - crinkled, like she was telling me a joke instead of delivering the worst news of my life.

It was like she wasn’t afraid.
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  • With All My Love   Fifty-nine

    Past Annabelle and Patrick found themselves alone in his house on a Sunday afternoon. He sat at the dining table, doing nothing, just sitting there in nothing but jeans, his long hair fanning against his face. He looked at Annabelle as she looked at him. His full lips parted, his lower lip caught between his teeth, biting, pulling.Suddenly, Annabelle was up from the couch, leaving behind its comfort. The TV blared in the background, the house both empty and full. Hot and somehow cold. Patrick's gaze darkened as Annabelle moved closer. He smiled, the corners of his gray eyes crinkling as he tilted his head slightly.“Come here,” he murmured. “Let me kiss you.”So Annabelle did. She stepped between his legs, and the moment their lips met, a spark ignited in her. He tasted beer and vanilla, a strangely intoxicating mix that made her dizzy.“You taste sweet,” Annabelle whispered against his lips.He smiled, pressing his forehead to hers, inhaling deeply as if he were breathing her in, a

  • With All My Love   Fifty-eight

    Present About thirty minutes later, as the sky grew darker, I glanced at him. He looked tired, his beard casting shadows on his face. But under that tiredness, I saw something else—a mix of happiness from our talk and a sadness that lingered. I wanted to understand it.I bit my lip - hard.“Tell me something,” I said softly, curious.He glanced at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His teeth showed slightly, and the glow of the setting sun cast a warm, golden light over his face. Still, his eyes looked tired and rimmed with red.“Why did you buy Peggy Sue?” I asked.Sam tilted his head back, sighing as he leaned back in the chair. “You know me. I can fix anything—cars, phones, even that old radio you brought me. I always thought I’d be an engineer. It seemed right. But…” He rubbed his face, searching for words. “You own a bar?”I knew I had no right to pry, not after everything I had done - after I disappeared without warning. But my curiosity wouldn’t let it go.S

  • With All My Love   Fifty-seven

    Present Three days into the week after Natasha left for New Orleans, I sat in my living room with Henry asleep on my lap, drafting a plan. The idea of making Patrick love me again felt both simple and utterly ridiculous, like clinging to a fading photograph crumpled in haste, its edges worn with time and longing. Nearby, a still-beeping baby monitor glowed softly, embodying both the hope of a new beginning and the folly of the task ahead.Desperate? Yes. Necessary? Also yes.When you hurt the person you love, the only way forward is to make it right. Desperation had been my companion ever since that fateful day with Patrick. Almost no one knew that Patrick and I had been together. Maybe Cassidy knew, but only because she caught us once, in Jesse's parents' toilet. Fixing this meant having a strategy.I carefully carried Henry to my bed, tucking him in. The apartment felt quieter without him. Just as I started heading back to my notepad, a knock at the door startled me, pulling me fro

  • With All My Love   Fifty-six

    PresentPatrick’s voice startled me, and I turned to see him standing in the doorway, holding a blanket in his hands.“Um…” I started, but he stepped closer, noticing the box in my hands, expression darkening. “Where did you find that?” he said, voice low.I hesitated. “It was just… there, in the wardrobe.”Patrick closed the distance, snatching the ring from my fingers. “What’s that?” I blurted.“A ring,” he grumbled. He stared at it for a moment, then added, “I had it made.”I blinked, stunned.“I wanted to give it to you, first at graduation, then your birthday,” he said, voice tight. “Ask you to be with me, to wait. But you left.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Oh.” Patrick’s lips twisted into something between a frown and a grimace. “You wanted me. I was good enough for that?” I said, looking away.“You were always good enough, Anna,” he said softly.He turned back to me, his gray eyes clouded with pain. “You were the one thing I looked forward to seeing every day, mor

  • With All My Love   Fifty-four

    PresentAfter my father went to prison, Patrick and his mom, Susan, took me in. They gave me a home, warmth, and safety when I had nowhere else to go. “I have people clean every Saturday,” Patrick said, voice calm but heavy. He grabbed two glasses. “Wine?” He leaned against the counter, watching me.“Yes, please,” I replied, moving slowly into the living room. My eyes caught on a photo pinned to the wall: me, Susan, and, smiling like nothing could touch us.I remembered that day. I’d been sick, and she’d promised to take me on a trip out of town to visit the university I’d dreamed of attending. I was so happy that day. My vision blurred, and I quickly wiped my eyes.“She really loved you, you know,” Patrick said, stepping up beside me and handing me a glass of white wine.I glanced at him. He looked rugged and handsome, his hair tied back, except for one stray piece that was tucked behind his ear.“Thanks,” I murmured, taking a sip.Then I turned to him, a sudden heaviness settling a

  • With All My Love   Fifty-three

    PastIf hell had a new destination, it was Annabelle’s body. Everything hurts. Two months had passed since the accident. Her father went to prison for abusing a minor; her mother was sent to rehab. Her mother had tried to save Annabelle, maybe out of guilt, maybe for another reason. Annabelle prayed deeply that she would be okay.She knew that she couldn't stay at the trailer alone. So she lived with Patrick and his mom, Susan. Patrick pressed against her, front to back, holding her close. He had sneaked into the guest room after midnight, wrapping her in his warmth. When she stirred and rolled toward him, he kissed her softly, as if she might break. Annabelle turned to him, her fingers in his hair, tracing his tattoos. She cupped his cheek, brushing quick, stolen kisses on his lips. He never stopped her. He stayed through everything. He protected her, helped her, held her when she couldn’t hold herself. For that, she was endlessly thankful.“Not gonna stop, are you?” he grumbled, his

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