C40 A man

Drifting in and out of consciousness, I get snippets of Shane’s scent, his strong arms as they carry me from the field to the packhouse walls. Soft Baltic linen was smooth against my skin and passionate kisses pressed to my wrists. Sweet promises and dark eyes are the last thing I see before I wake up in the morning. When I do, he’s gone.

The sheets are cold and he’s nowhere to be seen