Page 32 of Possession

He didn’t speak again, and the lump in my throat turned to shards of glass as I turned back to my canvas. I wasn’t ready. I stepped back from the easel and watched Declan from the corner of my eye. He resumed his work as if I wasn’t there, and if I hadn’t been so selfish I would have left. But, I couldn’t, so I went and sat in the back of the studio against the wall. I sat and watched him. I admired him from afar like I’d once done as a teen and, as the music of our youth poured from the speakers, everything had seemed to come full circle. I only hoped that this time we’d both get some sort of resolution.

I checked my phone and it was fifteen past one in the morning. My tailbone ached from sitting on the cold, concrete floor for so long. But I’d refused to budge until now. Declan covered his paints and wiped his hands on his towel while he looked at my unused canvas. He stared at it, his lips parted and his fists clenched. If this had been us back in high school I would have asked him what the voices had just said. He would’ve looked at me with sad eyes before he told me something awful. The voices had always been cruel and, if there was only one thing I would change about Declan, it wouldn’t be to get rid of the hallucinations, it would be to make them helpful, make them tell him just how amazing he was.

I stood from my private vigil and stretched my limbs. Declan’s eyes moved over my body, and I shifted self-consciously under the weight of his gaze. I pulled nervously at the hem of my sweater and then rubbed my hands on my jeans as he stalked toward me. It was difficult to wrap my head around how much he’d transformed over the years. Here was this gorgeous man, walking toward me, and I was nothing but bones and hollow eyes. Declan grabbed his phone that sat by the stereo and pocketed it. The music died and the room became claustrophobic. I’d come here to talk, and all I’d done was hide in the corner all night. This was a huge step, a white flag, but I was still sick with nerves.

He paused and took a deep breath, steeling himself before he looked at me again. I bit my lip unsure of what to do or say as I stood there like a mute. He glanced over my features again, and his brows dipped with what seemed like worry.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

My stomach threatened to empty right here in front of his feet at the mere mention of food. I shook my head. “No.”

“There’s a place, just up the street. It’s open twenty-four hours.”

I shook my head again. As much as I wanted to talk with him, a restaurant wasn’t the place, and besides, the way he watched me, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and uncertainty, I didn’t want to force this… us.

It fell quiet and all I could hear was his breathing… it soothed me and gave me a bit of courage. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and a sliver of his skin was exposed as the hem of his t-shirt lifted.I dropped my eyes to the floor as I spoke, “I won’t bother you—”

“Don’t.”

His tone was harsh and I raised my head and met his cool eyes. “What?”

“Don’t play the victim. We’ve both lost enough to hold that title.” His jaw constricted when I puffed out a shuddered gasp. His anger was radiating off his shoulders.

I took a step backward toward the door and stuttered, “I-I—”

“Wait.” He swore under his breath. “I didn’t mean… I mean… fuck, Paige, you’re here.” His eyes held me in a bewildered stare.

My bottom lip started to tremble without my permission, and I had to take several short breaths. In and out. In and out to maintain my emotions. I’d learned with Clark crying got you nowhere. “I shouldn’t be, but I had to say—”

“Say what?” he asked. His voice raised.

“I had to say…” My throat contracted and, when I tried to speak, the pain of the words caught in my throat.

“Say what?” His eyes softened and he moved toward me.

The dam broke and spilled over and I realized I was gasping, swallowing air down in giant sobs. The heat of his palm on my cheek eased each breath until I was able to see past the blur of tears.

“I’m sorry.” His tone was full of comfort and sadness, longing, and the guilt I held ripped at my heart until I was just pieces.

He framed my face with both of his hands.

“Forgive me,” I managed to say and when he looked at me again I was sure I was the one having hallucinations. He was the boy again. Innocent and wide eyed. “I’m so sorry.”

He pulled me into a hug and, when my damp cheek dried against the cotton of his shirt, I felt safe again.

“I know.”

We stayed like that for a while. His arms around me, holding me tightly against his chest. No promises or big discussions. Just two people who needed each other in the moment more than they needed the blood that pumped rapidly through their veins.

It was cathartic.

A possible renewal.

There weren’t any smiles or kisses. No more words needed to be exchanged tonight. There was just a peaceful balm of acceptance. We were at mile one and I would make sure he knew everything, but right now, I needed his scent filling my lungs and his heart beating in my ear. And as he let me go, I knew, at some point, he would figure out that the Paige from the past was gone, and I had to be prepared that he may not care about me beyond this apology.

It wasn’t a weird silence as we locked up the store, and when he offered to walk me to my car, I accepted. It was late, after all.

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