Take Care, Sara

him. I only want to be me. And I want that to be what you want. I want you to look at me and see me, not him. I don’t want to be a reminder. I want you to look at me and forget him.” Lincoln faced her, the force of him overpowering. 
    “I want you to want me for me . But you have to let go of him to find me, Sara. I can’t be the filler guy. I won’t be. So you have to figure that out. You have to decide what I am and you have to mean it. I’m yours. I just want to make sure, I have to know, that you’re mine. So you go do what you have to do.”
    She blinked her tear-filled eyes, the chasm inside her lengthening. “Okay, Lincoln.”
    “Okay.” He showed her his profile, his features stiff, unyielding.
    Sara turned in the direction of her car, lost once more, and was immediately grabbed and whirled around. Lincoln threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her face up, and assaulted her lips with his. Longing crashed over her and Sara responded to Lincoln’s fire with her own, her body thrumming with need. She grabbed his hair and twined it around her fingers. Lincoln moaned, moving them against a tree. The rough bark abraded her skin through the thin material of her jacket. He kissed her with a raw need, hunger in every touch of his lips to hers.
    Lincoln tore his lips away, eliciting a whimper of yearning from Sara. His chest heaved up and down and his eyes blazed with passion as he stared down at her. “You think about this moment, right now, while you’re out finding yourself, Sara. ‘Cause you know what? I already found you. You’re mine. I’m yours. I know it. You know it. You just have to see it.”
    ***
    The need to have a connection to him, even if only from her end, had been strong and Sara had walked into the garage before she’d known what she was doing. She’d stayed away for so long; not moving forward, but now it was time. She had to do it for herself, if she ever wanted to be at peace; if she ever wanted to be happy; even if she ever wanted to have a future with another man. Lincoln’s gray eyes shimmered in her mind and she pushed them away. This was for her. He couldn’t be a part of it, though he always was with her, no matter what she was doing or not doing. Imbedded into her heart, her soul, her being.
    The boxes were endless; her past sprawled out around her in cards, letters, and photographs. Sara sat on the dirty floor of the garage, randomly plucking a faded piece of paper from the top of the box. She opened it, laughing shakily as she read the note.
     
    Roses are red
    Violets are blue
    I got a boner
    And it’s because of you.
    Happy Valentine’s Day.
     
    She wiped her damp eyes, staring at his messy handwriting. Sara had loved everything about him; even his warped sense of humor. She set the note back in the box. Sara sorted through her past, keeping remembrances of him she could never part with, setting aside all she could. She found a black baseball cap with a snowmobile logo on it and set it on her head as she reconnected with what she’d lost. Halfway through she even grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge, but it was old and she didn’t like Busch Light anyway. One drink and she tossed it out.
    The doors of the house were open; as were the doors to the future. It was time. It hurt. But it was time. She couldn’t live in the house anymore; she couldn’t live in the past. Sara had finally come to terms with that, though knowing something didn’t make it hurt any less.
    She’d taken most of their belongings to be auctioned off. Sara knew she had to start over fresh, and even the most generic of items were reminders of him. Not that she wanted to forget; never that, but Sara wouldn’t be able to progress beyond what she now was if he was staring her in the face every place she looked. The house was so empty, but it didn’t feel emptier. Everything that had meant anything to her had been gone for close to seven months now.
    An offer had been made on the house and Sara was going to accept it. The truck was gone; the camper as well. Each time she parted with a piece of him, of Cole , she was brought that much closer to herself, whoever she was. Sara had to think his name; say his name, to make it real. She had to let go of him to find herself, to live . Sometimes she felt guilty about that, but most times Sara felt as though the restriction on her lungs had loosened a bit. He was with her; Cole would always be with her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t