AN: Unbeta'd.
Of Ruts and Grooves
He could still feel the imprint of her in the air. Not long ago, she'd spent the night, made a place for herself in the small shack.
For the first few months he'd lived there after the divorce, Ennis thought often of Jack. The winds wailed unbroken, his place unprotected and alone. He'd pause in the gravel driveway where Jack had stood only once and listen to the stones stir. He did it so often that he wore a shallow rut, a place for rainwater to collect. When he saw it, a physical mark on the earth, he stopped returning there.
Only years later was that driveway to know a third truck. He didn't like to think of her because he could not deny that though she was his second woman, she was his third. The realization screamed in to unacknowledged silences of his dreams. It spoke the man's name.
At first he thought maybe it was Alma, and Cassie could do better, make his other needs go away. He wasn't sure he wanted them to. But Cassie was no different: warm, wet, willing, but nothing else, nothing more. She came around when it pleased her and he let that be.
After Jack died, Ennis moved out of the place in a hurry. He'd only lain with one person there and it wasn't the right one. He'd only one the one groove deep enough to stick.