Page 106 of Burn With Me

“Is everything okay?”

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling before slowly looking up. “Have a seat, Little Ember.”

I begin to walk across the room to sit with him when he speaks again. “No. Have a seat on your side, love.”

“What’s going on?” My back is ramrod straight as I sit on the familiar clamshell loveseat. It’s impossible to read him, with the mask covering every feature that may give something away.

“I think you know why we’re here.” He rubs the back of his neck as he blows out a breath.

Anxiety pours into my bloodstream like oil from a spilled barrel. Sludgy and toxic, making it feel like all of my internal organs have jumped into my throat to escape the poison. It takes me three tries before I finally manage, “No.”

“Yes, Scarlett. It’s time.”

Slowly, I shake my head, moving it faster as I repeat, “No. No, it’s not…I can’t…”

“You’re happy, are you not?”

Tears prick my eyes as I attempt to dislodge my heart from my throat. My tongue feels thick, making it hard to speak, everything taking a few attempts before I can form words. “I am but-”

“I will not fuck you, Little Ember. I’ve told you this. You’ve learned all you can from me. There is no reason for this—forus—to continue.” His voice sounds pained, and I desperately want to race across the room and tear the mask from his face just to see if he truly looks as anguished as he sounds.

“Do you not want me anymore?” I sob, choking on the tears I can no longer hold back.

His head tilts to the side as his hands flex where they restbetween his knees. “I don’t think this arrangement is fair to your boyfriend.”

“YOUPUSHED ME TO GO BACK TO HIM!” I yell, standing abruptly.

He sits back. “And would you have, still, if I had not said anything?”

“Yes.” It feels like my heart is being crushed, pain exploding in my chest. “Yes, I would have gone back to him. I love him.”

“Then why won’t you let me go?”

There are no words that come to me. For seconds that stretch into minutes, I’m silent. Unable to answer. I’ve lived my life with him. He’s been my way to cope for so long that I don’t knowhowto live without him.

But the stranger I grew up with—that I made up—isn’t reallyhim.

“Scarlett. If you had to choose–”

“No!” My tone is rough and watery, and I’m starting to get a headache with all the pressure in my sinuses. “No, you willnotask me to choose.”

It’s his turn to fall silent. Minutes go by of audible attempts to control our breathing, my crying, and him cracking his knuckles. He finally speaks, his tone so thick with turmoil it shatters my heart. “Would you be so content to live for however long, only meeting me on the weekends? Still masked, never knowing our true identities? Never fucking. Because I will not do that in here. Not with you not knowing who I am. Wouldthatbe worth losing him? Because you cannot continue keeping it a secret. It will eat you alive.”

Slowly, I sink to the floor, back against the couch, as I continue to sob. He’s right. I know he’s right. But I’m not ready to let him go.

“I’m not ready…” My words are a mix of inaudible and squeaky. Tears fall heavily from my eyes, washing away the liner and mascara. My fingers come away from my face with black smears as I wipe at my cheeks and cry harder.

The sound he makes behind his mask sounds like a harsh, ragged breath. His body shivers, as though he’s trying not to cry. He pushes to his feet quickly, and for a moment, I think he will break the rules and pull me into his arms, but when I realize he’s headed for the door, I cry out.

“No! Don’t go!” Pathetically, I throw myself at his feet as he passes, clinging to his pants.

“I have to, Little Ember. This has to end. I was hoping it would have gone better than this.”

He crouches, removing my hands from him and setting them in my lap. The sigh he lets out is heavy with emotion, but I’m crying so hard I can’t see his eyes. “You’ll be okay. I promise. Eventually, you’ll realize this was for the best.”

The cool metal of his mask touches my forehead, and then he rises. “I’m proud of you.”

Blinking furiously to try and clear the tears from my eyes, I look up to see him with his hand on the doorknob. His head hangs like he’s internally warring with himself over leaving. Eventually, he opens the door.

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