Page 23 of Forever We Fall

We’re quiet for a while, just sharing space, until I work up the courage to speak. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

A pained sound leaves him. It knocks the air from my lungs. There’s more to his story, but I don’t push. The discomfort of losing the person who gave you life and nurtured it is debilitating. It was the most destructive event in my life until it was overtaken by something worse.

“He’s not my father. My father was nothing like him, even though they shared half their blood.” A wave of filth rattles my insides, just knowing that the rat bastard and I share blood too.

“I had no idea he existed until I was fourteen. Before him, my life was better than I even realized.” I chew the inside of my lip. “I took everything for granted. Everyone.” My thumb presses in on my lip, and I chew harder. A drop of blood spreads out on my finger. I watch it expand.

“Here.” Hota holds out a tissue. “We all take things for granted until we no longer have them.”

“They’re all gone.” I stare at the white tissue.

“Who?” He folds the material in half and eases forward.

I simply watch, unable to do anything but stay upright from the tsunami of emotions battering my insides.

He dabs the blood from my finger. The red stains the pristine fibers as I stare in suspended animation. He folds it once more and lifts it higher. The soft paper slides over my lower lip. Then he sits back, careful not to touch me.

It’s the first kind physical contact I’ve had since my uncle dragged me away from Blakely and her family. My brother’s girlfriend understood my pain like no one else. She cried with me and laughed with me when it seemed like we would never laugh again. And then he took me away from her.

When I look at Hota, there’s a sudden and acute burning in my chest. I don’t know what will happen to me if I let him in, and then he is taken from me too.

That’s not true. I know what will happen.

I won’t survive.

“Whatever you say stays between us.”

“Always?” I despise the desperation in my voice, but it’s the truth. I am desperate for connection, for something other than pain and isolation.

He places his hand over his heart. His upper lip quivers as though he’s struggling to hold on to his composure as much as I am. “Always. I’m your guy.”

I nod. He nods. We both slap at the tears we hate.

“My family.” My throat goes tight. “My whole family.” I lick my lips and enjoy the pain the laceration brings. It’s so much easier to handle the raw and bloody soul inside me. “One minute, everything was great. The next, they were dead. Mom. Dad. My brother.”

A laugh rumbles in my chest, though nothing is remotely funny about it. Except what a difference a minute can make. Ifthey’d forgotten a coat and had to run back inside for it, they’d still be here, and I’d still be there. If the man who had a heart attack behind the wheel of his rig had slept in or caught another red light, they’d still be here, and I’d be there. If I had gone with them, my life would have been so much easier.

Laughter turns to tears, and I can’t make them stop. At least they’re silent. I wipe them away, but they keep coming.

Hota moves beside me. Something has shifted in my DNA, rearranged itself somehow, and I fully trust him. I don’t worry about him touching me or worse. He won’t.

My body gives itself over to the vulnerability and weeps for everything I’ve lost.

“A stupid fucking car accident destroyed my life.” I don’t know if he understands what I’ve said. I’m crying pretty hard now.

A few seconds later, a blanket is wrapped around my shoulders.

My fingers grip the edges and curl it against my front. I tuck my knees to the side, huddle in the fetal position, and cry like I’m a child and my mom is holding me close.

Every fiber of my being propels me toward Arlo. Like I’m a magnet, and he’s true north. I scoot closer, so he knows I’m here, but don’t place my hand on the back of his neck or graze my thumb over his wet cheek. He hasn’t said he doesn’t like to be touched, but I can tell by the way he holds himself so rigidly in the great hall or the hallways during class changes.

He avoids touch at all costs. But he touched me. A warmth settles over my chest, as though I’m the one with the comforter over my shoulders. He touched me to save me from his uncle. I fight the smile that tugs at my lips. It’s wholly inappropriate for the moment.

Arlo’s entire body shakes in quiet sobs. I let him cry it out. Shit, for what this guy has been through, he should never stop crying. He’s always so stoic and in control. I like control more than most, but I know he needs it more than I do.

I’ll give him mine.

Fuck, I’ll give him anything and everything, if it’s within my power. Which runs incongruous to my nature.

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