Page 57 of Warmer, Colder

“Well, I do. I want you, Becca.” Four little words that are so hard to say out loud because they’re dangerous with a woman like this, with what she’s capable of doing to me—destroying me. “But I won’t settle for being at your beck and call. I won’t let myself get burned by you again.”

“As if you’re any better with all your little mind games,” she shouts.

“It never had to be like this.” My throat works, tight and uncomfortable as I choke on the unnecessary suffering I’ve endured simply because I’ve loved her.

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” I reject her easy out.

“Can’t. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Haven’t for a long time.” She sniffs back the tears that glitter on her lashes. “I did everything I was supposed to—I was docile, sweet, and studious—I did my best to be perfect, and what did it get me?Nothing.The last few months of my life were pain and misery, and now…now I’m dead before I even have a developed pre-frontal cortex for fuck’s sake.” Taking a deep inhale, Becca balls her fists against her forehead. “I have nothing to give you. Without my family, without college,without my plan, I don’t even know what to do with myself. So just give me a goddamn break, okay? I can’t just slip into whatever role you want me to play.”

“I don’t need you to be anything. I want you to be yourself.The real you.She’s in there, I know it.” I lean forward, capturing her cold gray eyes.

“Oh, that’s rich,” she says sarcastically. “Who’s the liar now? You don’t like therealme. We both know you want me to fit into your perfect little fantasy of who you expected me to be.” She throws her arms outward. “Well, this is all I’ve got. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I know what it’s like to want something I can’t have.” A bitter laugh slips through my teeth, but I manage to catch the secret I want to throw at her feet. I want her to know she can’t hide from me, that I see the scared little girl she really is, still running from a truth that’s clear as day and undeniable as the letters they carved into thetop of her desk—Becca Murphy loves Anastasia Eden.And god did I want her to accept it after all these years, but she’s still too much of a coward. My heart leapt into my throat when she gave me so much trust tonight—fluttering violently with hope when she opened up so much to herself—but then we were just thrown back into this cursed cycle all over again. The moment she shifted away from my touch, I knew it was over, just like that day she shook her head vehemently with denial when they accused her of loving me. So many years ago, the wings of hope were brutally clipped. They were never bandaged up right, never properly healed, breaking them again was far too easy. Every time she gives me a little glimpse of how good things could be, I’m so quick to risk crashing down again.

I can trace all the fucked-up decisions I’ve made back to that my first heartbreak. When I knew the way I loved Becca Murphy was cursed. An uneven scale, a romantic injustice that I would serve a lifetime for. It’s coming to a head now. But I’ve learned my lesson, I’m not going to give her another opportunity to reject me. “At least I’m brave enough to go after what I want. But thank you so much for your ‘honesty’. I’m so glad you showed me that you aren’t worth the risk.”

“You say I’m the risk, but god, you’re so toxic I can hardly breathe around you!”

I laugh, something unstable like a chemical reaction to her destructive words. “I’m toxic. Oh, sweetheart. You need to take a better look in that mirror. Nobody has ever been more toxic than you. Should we talk about all the relationships you’ve poisoned? What about Meg?”What about me?But I leave that part left unsaid. “And poor Aiden?”

“Don’t you dare.”

But I do. There’s no stopping what I’ve started. “He loved you so unconditionally, but there was always that voice in your head wasn’t there? The one where you wished he didn’t get everythinghe wanted. The one that wished that he had to hide away parts of himself and suffer like you.”

Becca’s teeth click together as she holds back the lie she can’t bring herself to say.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” A triumphant laugh escapes me. “It must have beenso hardseeing him live his truth while you cowered behind a carefully devised facade. I hate to be the one to break it to you but you’re so right. You have no idea who you are at all because you’re so caught up in being the perfect, fake, plastic doll that keeps you safe from dealing with any of the really hard stuff life throws at you. Turns out that foundation was laid pretty haphazardly. Those walls you built up around yourself aren’t very sound.” I rap my knuckles on the wall behind me for dramatic effect. “One big quake in your perfect little world and it all comes crumbling down leaving you exposed. And guess what, I see you for what you really are.”

“Stop. Fucking. Talking.” Becca’s voice is cutting; I lean into it, not afraid to nick myself.

“What’s wrong, Crybaby? Are you afraid of how ugly you can be when someone peels back the paint?”

As her features contort, something inside me grows anxious to soothe her, but I resist the urge. Instead, I drive a nail into the coffin, ready to kick her down into the dirt just like me. “I hope playing it safe was worth it because I’m done trying to help you. I’m done caring.”

Chapter 26

Stasi

77 Days Dead

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.Fuck that, I have enough bitterness inside me to blame both of us.

Yes, I should have known better that, even after all this time, it wouldn’t be so easy for her to accept that she wants this. Becca isn’t one to jump feet first into the unknown. All of her risks are measured, and her decisions careful. It’s easy to forget the hesitance with which she’s always done everything, even choices that should be simple or automatic. Becca’s mind is always seeking that comforting caress of approval. And without it, change will be hard for her to accept.

But I’m also to blame. If her problem is the inability to throw caution to the wind, then I lack the self-control to stop myself from jumping off the cliff with my knees tucked against my chest and a victorious scream drifting behind me. I go after what I want. Once you realize nobody will give you anything unless it serves them, there’s really no other choice.

Still, I should have resisted more. We needed more time. I should have told her no. My own desires clouded my mind like a few puffs of a good joint. But god,with all that beautiful begging.The sight of heron her knees. Stronger women would have caved.

Like any bad habit, the craving for her rages on spitefully despite my painfully diligent abstinence. But I refuse to cave in. I can find more interesting things to do than pine after Becca. I need to find something else to do with my life. In my desperation, I turn to the next best thing to stave off the withdrawal a bit longer.

Her old fuzzy diary is heavy in my hand as I crack it open. My hope is that what I find inside will be a reminder of how easily she moved on without me like it never even happened. Like we hadn’t been inseparable. I want to see the parts of her that she tries so hard to hide.

I flip through the pages until I find an entry that catches my eye:

August 15th, 2005

---