Free Now a Major Motion Picture by Stacey Wiedower Page B

followed her past her door to a landscaped common area that backed up to her quad of apartment units. They wandered for a while on a maze of pebbled sidewalks that wound through the complex and linked a series of similar courtyards. She laced her fingers through his, the only sounds the murmur of concrete fountains and the chirping of the ever-present Texas crickets. When they returned to the spot behind Erin’s building, Noah stopped and pulled her down beside him on a stone bench that was nestled into some tropical-looking foliage.
    The heady garden scent filled his lungs, and he and Erin sat in silence for several minutes. In their stillness, he could hear street noise in the distance, the sound of car doors shutting, the low drone of a TV in a nearby apartment. Erin shuddered against the chill of the autumn night air, and he slid an arm over her shoulders.
    She looked up at him.
    The urge he’d felt in the bar hit him again, and he leaned forward instinctively, brushing her lips with his. He pulled in a deep breath, his eyes closed. It had been so long since he’d felt a rush of emotion at a woman’s touch. This wasn’t the first encounter with a woman he’d had since Amelia had left, of course, but it was the first that held any meaning.
    After a short pause, Erin reached up and slid a hand behind his neck. Their lips met again, parting this time in a fuller, deeper kiss. Several minutes passed before he pulled back, his thoughts tangled into a million tiny knots. He enveloped her shoulders with his arm and gazed at the smooth stone fountain, which glowed silver in the sparse light.
    They still didn’t speak. He sat beside her and relished the sudden warmth that had spread like a blanket around them. When she turned her head to look at him, he said, “I’ll walk you to your door.”
    Before he left, he bent down and kissed her again.
    “I’ll call you.”
    Erin nodded, for once offering no teasing response. She turned and disappeared inside.
     
    * * *
     
    Back at his own place, Noah glanced around as though seeing everything for the first time. He was used to being alone, but tonight, after turning away from Erin as her front door closed behind her, he’d felt lonelier than he had in years.
    He stooped to rub Amos on the head and scratch him in his favorite spot behind his ears.
    “It’s just you and me, boy.”
    He felt inexplicably low despite the high he’d been riding on all night.
    Suddenly exhausted, he wandered into his living room, its white walls broken up by a series of large-scale photographs arranged in a clean line above a charcoal-colored sofa. The photos were crisp, simple architectural shots of farm-related buildings set against a backdrop of rolling plains. They were black and white, but certain elements—words on the side of a building here, curving lines of a tractor there—were colored in a vivid orange. He’d come across them at an art opening for a co-worker’s wife. He’d bought them because they reminded him of home.
    With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the sofa and flipped on his wall-mounted flat screen. He channel surfed a while, but found he couldn’t concentrate for long on any one program. After a few minutes, he clicked the TV off and stared blankly at the screen. He rose from the sofa and dropped the remote control on his glass-topped coffee table with a loud clatter.
    He couldn’t believe what he was about to do.
    Taking a furtive look around despite the fact he was alone in his own home, he walked to the nightstand in his bedroom, where he’d emptied his pockets as soon as he’d returned to the condo.
    “I know it’s in here,” he muttered as he fished through his wallet.
    When he’d moved to Dallas, he’d worked to clear his mind of Amelia. He didn’t want reminders, didn’t want to go anywhere she’d been or see anything that made him think of her.
    Except when he wanted to think of her.
    For those times, he’d brought just one physical reminder—a