Joe woke with sounds of softness sailing around the air of the hot summer, eyes peeling open and catching the morning sunshine that split through the ivory blinds. There was a queen in front of him, bare legs seeking warmth between his as her pools of blue sought out his hazel eyes. Her cheeks found a shade of warm pink as his arms rounded her petite frame within their grasp and held her there, close to him as she could get. He kissed her, a touch they both knew so well, and his thumb brushed the definition of her cheek, tracing its delicacy, memorizing its contour.

He smiled at her as he pulled away, looking into the eyes he could've spent his whole life getting lost in. "You've got eyes of blue and green," he whispered. He watched as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked down, her lips shadowing the smile she tried to hide as blood crept up the tan skin of her neck.

She dug her head in his neck, instinct guiding their bodies together, molding them together with the expert hands of God.

As time lulled them to sleep and they lulled each other to peace, Joe Grey held Miley and thought in a single crazed moment that he could spend his life like this – losing time with the woman who calmed his heart and sent it into fits at the same time.

"Are you really gonna leave him?"

Miley looked up and saw Mamaw Grey, seated by the end of the porch in the chair Joe had built for her. Her gaze was out by her son, watching the life in his eyes and heart and in everything he did; it was something she hadn't seen in a while. And that made it harder for Miley.

"I got to," Miley breathed as if it was fact, as if it was decided. She pulled her knees up to her chest as she swayed on the white porch swing. "He don't need me right now."

"That ain't true, honey," Denise sighed. "You know it ain't."

"I do, Mamaw," she shook her head, resting her chin on her arm, listening to the southern breeze whistle through the trees, listening to the carefree giggles of little Maryann Grey, listening to the swell of her own heart as she watched Joe laugh and chase after her with Camille in tow, listening to the breath of disapproval that escape Denise's lips. Her lips trembled, eyes getting warm with moisture, but she laid her head in her arms anyway and losing time watching the man she loved lose time, wishing they could lose time together for the rest of their lives.

Bodies moving as one, Miley held onto Joe, her arms clung around his neck as she hid her teary eyes within in the crook of his neck. She could feel him, all of him – the desperation, the need, the pleading. It made her reconsider it all, and the thoughts flew through her mind's eye with outcomes close behind.

She could spend her life with Joe just like she fantasized about when she met him down at the market one day, his hair in a mess of waves as he struggled with the baby in his arms. At the time she thought it was outrageous, but it wasn't. She had him there to prove it. Maybe it still wasn't too far-fetched.

But then she remembered that life wasn't that simple and that losing time wasn't the meaning of it.

Joe kissed her long and hard as their bodies tired, but he kept pushing, aching to convince her to change her mind even if the tiny, fleeting realistic part of him knew she wouldn't.

They both reached their breaking points that night together, cries of somber bliss seeming to fade slowly, gradually as they pulled each other in their arms and hoped for an alternate universe where it wouldn't be the last.

Her bags were packed, the worn out suitcases resting next to the cherry-oak door. She stood by them and took a deep breath, fighting her trembling hands and the weakness of her knees. Two AM in the morning felt haunting, troubling – like it was the hour of departure, the hour of leaving your world behind and entering another world that isn't half as nice.

Closing her eyes, she defied her frailty and bent down, taking a bag in each hand before standing up straight. Another deep breath swam in and out of her lungs, a hand turned the knob and eased the door open, and a foot almost came in contact with the world outside the one she knew best, but she was stopped by the voice she loved more than anything.

"Please don't go…"

There was a warm touch to her arm that triggered a rush of blood throughout her body, but she pulled her arm away and looked down.

"Miley," he whispered, pulling her back and turning her around. A finger slid beneath her chin, its warmness guiding her to look up into an even warmer pair of eyes, soothing like melted chocolate. Tears rushed to her own eyes at the sight.

"I got a train to catch, Joe," she replied evenly despite her clouded eyes.

"You don't got to go," he said. His voice cracked. "You can stay here with me… Me and Maryann and Mamaw."

Shaking her head, she looked down and forced a sob back down her throat. "I'm not needed 'round here no more, Joe." His lips were parted, words of protest about to leave them, but she stepped away.

"Maryann," he tried to argue; she could see in his eyes that he was searching, trying to find anything that could make her stay. "What about Maryann?"

"Camille's back," she answered, her arms crossing over her stomach. Her bags were at the floor by her feet again as if she was wishing he could come up with a reason to keep her from picking them up. "A girl needs her real mamma, Joe, and she got her back… She don't need me."

A tear slid down his crimson cheek as he tried again. "What about me, Miley? I need you. I lo—"

"Don't say it, Joe," she cut him off. "You got a family now… A real family. I can't get in the way of that."

"You won't," he cried. He wasn't holding back anymore and the tears she fought overflowed, stinging as they rolled down her skin. "You won't, Miley."

"Yes I will," she said, her bags back in her hands. "You got a chance to give Maryann a normal life, Joe… With a mamma and a papa and a grandma who all love her. I won't fit into that."

He shook his head again and stepped closer, but she stepped out of the door and looked at him through the open frame. She felt like the outsider she knew she would be if she stayed, and a surge of clarity let her look him in the eyes, tears falling down her cheeks and voice doused with hurt, and tell him… Once and for all, the truth they both tried to hide from. "We all got to grow up, Joe," she whispered. "We can't just sit here and lose time forever… It got to start meaning something sometime, right? You got a baby girl and a family, and I got whatever the heck God got in store for me… It ain't as simple as love no more."

She stared up at him as he stared down at her, wind howling, whipping through her caramel-brown tresses.

"I'm gonna miss you," he whispered softly. "You and your eyes of blue and green…"

Her eyes fell to the weathered porch as she felt her body shake, but she nodded, holding everything down. "I'm gonna miss you, too," she cracked, before turning around and walking down the steps. She could feel his gaze on her, following her as she loaded her bags in her truck; because of that, she tried to keep calm. She tried to calm her rapid heartbeat and control her legs, begging to take her back to him so she could kiss him for as long as she wanted.

But she got in her truck and left.

For once in her life, she was proud of herself.

Miley sighed as she entered her squalid little apartment, her fingers immediately undoing the buttons of her jacket before resting it on the only chair she had in the kitchen. She walked over to the mattress on the ground and felt the springs shift as she sat down on it, the softness of her pillow welcoming her, comforting her after a shift of serving city folk she thought she would never get used to.

She hugged an old t-shirt close to her chest, the scent of cheap drugstore cologne warming her nostrils and sending her on a high. For a second, she felt as if he was really next to her.

But he wasn't. He was miles away, in bed with the girl he didn't want to be with, his arms wrapped around her small body. Camille was nestled in his arms, and when he closed his eyes, he almost felt her just like every night. When his arms were around Camille – when he let his eyes close – the ghost of Miley was there with him… But then he'd open his eyes and see a pair of eyes that weren't of blue and green.

Far apart and distant like the way they felt from the world, they thought about each other sometimes and smiled, faces stained with tears and hearts marked by need as they remembered the time they lost together that neither of them wanted to take back.

And then they'd fall asleep and lose some more time again.

I'm not too proud of this. It didn't turn out the way I wanted.
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