Prudence scoffed, turning away from me when I didn’t answer quickly enough.
“Why do you want to die, Prudence?” I asked softly, surprised by the words as they escaped. I’d been thinking about it a lot lately, but I hadn’t intended to actually ask him. Bigmouth strikes again. Now that the question was out though, I couldn’t make myself regret bringing it up. My heart was in my throat, my palms sweaty as I waited.
He’d probably ignore the question.
It was invasive after all.
But he surprised me when after only a few minutes of silence he answered, his shoulders tense, his legs spread in the effortlessly dominant way he always presented himself. Like the world was a stage and he had a point to prove to the masses.
Big things sometimes come in small packages.
“It doesn’t matter.” Prudence’s voice was a quiet growl. Clearly he’d thought I’d give up after the dismissal. Buuuut he should’ve known me better than that by now.
“It matters,” I said, nudging his shoulder gently with my own. “To me.”
The mountain in the distance was topped with snow, though we’d been lucky enough we hadn’t been cursed by it. That was one thing I loved about living in San Diego. I’d left the blizzards and black ice behind. Now though…staring at the snowcapped peaks with Prudence beside me, even bad weather didn’t seem quite so daunting.
He didn’t speak for a long time.
And then he did.
“Life is a disappointment.”
Oh.
My eyes began to burn as his words hit me. They were so honest, so depressingly, horribly honest. They sawed my heart in two.
“Pru—”
“People are disappointing.” Prudence interrupted me. His words were brutal but he didn’t move, body still beside mine, our thighs almost brushing. Somehow despite all the sex we’d had, all the laughter, all the secrets, this admission was the most intimate thing he’d ever shared with me. My heart hurt. And for the first time, I really let myself think about him.
Not in the shallow way I’m sure everyone who knew what he’d gone through must have when they found out—even his sisters that we knew were already looking for him.
No.
I thought about who he’d been when his life had gone to shit. The scared boy who had been punished for the murder of the woman he’d sought a mother in. I knew he blamed himself. I knew he’d always regret the day she’d died. The fact he’d seen Lydia pulling gasoline cans out of the back of her car—and hadn’t said a word. When he’d found out what had happened, something inside him had no doubt broken. Parts of his heart scattered so far he’d never been able to piece it together again. Never wanted to piece it together again.
He’d lived a life worse than hell.
The puppet to a twisted woman, a soldier for her warped agenda.
Of course he thought people were disappointing. They had been. They’d lived up to that expectation over and over and over again. Constantly underperforming. Betrayal hidden behind smiles. Lies spun prettily with the cobwebs of their empty promises.
Prudence’s world was a dark place. Full of people that always lived up to his lowest expectations. Full of nothing but validation at every turn, that the darkness he believed hid behind every friendly face was real, always lurking, always waiting for the opportunity to show itself.
“You’re quiet,” Prudence accused. I was so surprised by his voice I jolted out of my reverie. I could feel his gaze boring a hole into the side of my cheek. “You’re breathing too fast.” He pointed out, not subtly at all. “Why?”
“Because—” It took me a second to get my thoughts in order and by the time I did, my earlier turmoil had been replaced with a sudden rush of affection for him so strong it made my fingertips tingle. Dappled sunlight peeked through the now lavender clouds, casting shadows on and through Prudence’s body, his pale eyes dark with curiosity and trepidation.
I saw that now.
The way he looked at me, always surprised when I didn’t disappoint. Always terrified I was about to.
Teetering.
I didn’t want to be another reason he lost faith in humanity.
I wanted to be his sunshine.