Page 90 of Fate Awakened

Cain: When you’re ready. I’m here.

Cain: Good night, Firefly

Cain: Good morning, Firefly

Bri: Can we talk? Today before the funeral?

As I send the message, my fingers shake, and I sit staring at the screen. When the three dots pop up to show he’s typing a response, I bite down on my lip, chewing it nervously.

I need to do this. I need closure.

Cain: Yes. Anywhere. Anytime. I’ll be there.

The desperation I feel from his words causes a dull ache at the center of my chest—the place where my overwhelming sense of love for him used to live. I wish I could say I feel nothing now after breaking apart every piece of myself. Nothing would be a welcome reprieve. Nothing would be infinitely better than the always present vacancy he once filled.

I set the time for thirty minutes before the service today. Giving us enough time to say what we need to say, but also putting a clock on it, so I know that I’ll have to walk away. I won’t miss the service, not after everything Hudson did to save me.

***

The address Dante gave me for today's service takes me nearly out of town to an oversized farmhouse on the edge of the Henderson border. Several cars line the driveway to the property, which stands two stories tall with large windows adorned with wood shutters. It looks spacious enough to be a hotel and has homey accents that make it inviting.

I pull in, parking on the edge of the street so I don’t get boxed in, and I wonder if this place belongs to Hudson’s parents. I can only imagine the childhood he would’ve had here with all this room to find adventure.

Bracing myself for the emotions of this day, I open my door. The early evening air caresses my skin as I climb out and begin digging in the back seat for the jacket I borrowed from Liv. I stand there momentarily, taking in the vast open space, with the desert opening up just beyond the house.

People are busy preparing. They walk in and out carrying chairs to the backyard area, lugging bags of ice from a catering van, and placing flowers around the home. I immediately feel out of place and find myself eyeing the few steps back to my car.

Turning, I decide I’ll wait in the car until I see Cain or Dante so I’m not looking like a lost puppy. I hear him before I can make it two steps into my retreat.

“Hey, Fire…Brielle,” he corrects himself halfway through the pet name as he jogs from the front of the property. I hate that the sound of my real name on his lips hurts so much. My eyes betray me, drinking in his appearance like we’re in the middle of a drought. On an average day, Cain looked hotter than should be legal, but today he wore an impeccably tailored black suit that accentuated his lean athletic frame. I couldn’t help but flash to him standing at the end of a wedding aisle, and the image in my mind feels like a knife to the heart.

He stops walking a few feet in front of me, and I can tell it’s taking all of his control not to reach out and touch me. I find myself gripping the sides of my dress for the same reason.

I miss his touch.

“Hi. Thank you for agreeing to meet early. I know it’s a busy day,” I say, deliberately avoiding his eyes while my heart rate rises at his proximity.

“I’m never too busy for you,” he replies softly and without hesitation, and my traitorous heart does a slight pitter-patter without my permission.

You’re supposed to be on my side.

“Why don’t you come with me? There’s a picnic table off the far side of the property where we won’t be in the way, and there’s some privacy,” he offers while I try to keep my body on the same page as my mind. He reaches out his hand on instinct, and I find myself recoiling away from it like you would a venomous snake.

Having his hands on me would hurt too much. It would be too hard to walk away from. I need to be strong.

“I’ll follow you,” I say, leaving my eyes firmly planted on the ground beneath us, knowing the pain in his expression even without seeing it.

We walk in silence, making it to the old wooden table in minutes. It sits next to a small garden area which I’d bet looks stunning in the spring. Today, in the cool air of late November, it lacks the blooms to add color to its desert surroundings.

I pass the table, knowing it would be impossible for me to sit, despite that being the reason he brought us over here. Instead, I focus my attention on the garden. Cain also foregoes sitting and stands a few feet away from me with his hands in his pockets.

“I know you must have a million questions,” he starts as I pick at the cuticles around my nails to keep my hands busy.

“Dante answered most of them. Not that knowing the answers makes it easier to believe that my whole life, I’ve been living with this thing inside me.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known. Until you’re Awakened, the gene is just like any other floating around in your body,” he says, trying to reassure me.

That’s not the reassurance I need.

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