Colder Weather

A man and a woman lay side by side on an old four-poster bed. The man's right arm outstretched underneath the woman's head, supporting it in place of a pillow. The woman's cheeks were flushed and her deep blue eyes had a lively sparkle in them. The man's hazel eyes studied every feature of her face from behind their heavily lashed lids. He reached out tenderly with his other hand and caressed the woman's face. Gently, as if she were made of porcelain and a touch could shatter her.

She sighed as his index finger stroked up and down her cheek.

"Dean?"

He pulled back slightly and smiled at her sweetly.

"Yes, love?" He leaned back in and pressed his lips to her forehead.

She felt the blood rush to her ears as the full weight of that one, simple word fell upon them. Love.

"Promise me something?" She whispered, pulling back and looking up into his eyes.

"No." He shook his head and his smile widened, turning from sweet to mischievous in an instant. "I won't promise you anything." He pulled back and laid his head down, glancing at her from between his lashes once more.

"Well, why not?" The woman asked, propping herself up on her elbow and leaning closer, so that her face was positioned over his. Her long, curly brown hair hung forward and brushed over his neck.

"Because, promises are made to be broken. That's why I never say 'I promise'." She rolled her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue before pushing back and laying down again.

"Be that way, then." She giggled and rolled over, turning her back to him.

A moment later, she felt an arm snake up and wrap itself around her middle. A second later, she felt a soft breath by her ear.

"I didn't say I wouldn't swear." His voice whispered huskily. "I'll swear anything, for you."

Anything?

She twisted around underneath the weight of his arm to face him. She looked deep into his eyes. The sincerity reached as far back as she could see.

"Swear to me that we can always be this way. Me and you." It was her turn to stroke his cheek.

Dean studied her face for a long moment, brow furrowed, lips pursed as if he were trying to find the proper words. She held her breath, trying her hardest to believe the best.

He'll say no. A small voice nagged. She pushed the thought into the recesses of her mind and focused on Dean's face.

He finally relaxed his face, a blank look washing over his features. As she stared at him, she felt as if she were going to cry.

Oh. What a stupid thing to say... To think.

As quick as the thought that had entered her mind, Dean leaned in and lace his lips gently on hers. He removed his arm from her waist and placed his hand behind her head, pulling her closer. Her lips started to tingle with warmth and her head felt light.

Dean broke the kiss and touched his nose to hers. His lips brushed against hers as he whispered his reply.

"I'll love you forever. 'Til the day I die."

___________________________________________________________________________

Isabel stared blankly out her kitchen window at the raindrops that were running down the glass. She watched them splatter and fall apart, only to meet again further down the pane as they made their way down toward the sill. The small, watery plinks they made helped her remember to breathe. Every five plinks, she took a deep breath in, trying to bring her heart rate down. Trying to clear her head and wrangle it back into reality.

One, two, three, four, five. Breathe. She sucked a breath in through her nose and let it out through her mouth, slowly.

Isabel glanced down at the kitchen table, covered in its blue gingham tablecloth. One of her many attempts at brightening up the old house. It wasn't working. Nothing was working.

She had thrown out the bed. The clothes. Her favorite red dress. Even her couch.

All his pictures were gone. She'd changed all the locks.

It had been two years.

And yet, wherever she looked, he was there. She saw his face everywhere she looked. She heard his voice in her dreams. She felt his touch.

Her mother had told her to move.

"It's the healthiest thing, Isabel." She had chided gently.

I've never been one for the healthiest choice. Isabel snorted, remembering her mother's words and replaying them in her head. If I was, I wouldn't have ended up with him. And I wouldn't have let him break my heart.

She glanced up from the table cloth to resume staring out the window. This time, she looked past the film of raindrops and out at her yard and the street beyond. She made out the shape of a dark car. It looked like an old model Chevrolet. Her heart skipped a beat.

Maybe it's... She shook her head and blinked rapidly. I'm not even going to think it.

She resumed her breathing. One, two, three, four, five. Breathe.

She squinted out the window at the car parked on the opposite side of the street. It was indeed a dark car. Probably black. But the more she studied, the more sure she became that it was a new model Chevy.

Yes. Most definitely a new model.