All the words I never said / @wbronson
Blonde tendrils were raked back into a messy ponytail, donned in overalls that were questionable at their best; they looked like something a sixty old farmer would slip into to parade around with his stock. Though her life events weren’t turning out much different as she stood next to the dog bath, covered in a fine spray of water as she ruffled Milo’s fur. Taking her time to ensure he was clean and fresh. His tail wagging brought a smile to her lips, drying him as they listened to the music thump through the speaker. “Alright you, time to go and get some dinner,” her voice as mellifluous as honey. Taking him through to the back, she left him to eat his food.
Drying her palms on a cloth, she threw it back into the pile of laundry to clean. Wandering back into the office, her bum hit the seat with a smothered thud. A heavy exhale falling from pink fibres, her chin fell on a slightly calloused palm. How had her life gotten to this point? She was grateful for the life lessons she was learning but it was hard–– she had never been so far away from her comfort zone. From butlers, cleaners; weekends in the Hamptons. Now she lived in some small apartment working two jobs and she was… learning. She had made a lot of mistakes. Wrongdoings that needed to be rectified; she was trying. It was still a process for her.
That’s why she had moved here after all. Bull. Perhaps her biggest mistake–– running away from him. Because that was what she was good at, flying when things went wrong, dipping out of tight situations and slinging words around like butter wouldn’t melt. But Willa was starting to learning that these things did hurt. A lot. She had it all written out on her phone. This length apology, reams of words that she had re-written at least ten times, trying to explain herself. To ask for a second chance to prove herself, for him to see she had changed.
The blonde was distracted, clouded by acclimation of thoughts when the door swung open. “Oh erm, one second,” she called out. Brushing off the denim the hung on her frame. Her feet carried her back into their entranceway, the smile on her lips lasted seconds–– moments. Him. It was like the oxygen was sucked out of her body. As if she had been dropped in a bath iced water. “I erm…eh,” her mouth opened and closed again, fumbling over the nothingness that didn’t part her lips. She thought she would have more time to prepare. To think, to plan. To explain. “B-bull,” his name a whisper. A name she hadn’t said In years. Terrified that he hated her. Because he should. She deserved that. “I...I was going to find you...” not today, or this week. But at some point, when she could face the music.
