Page 33 of Into the Light

“What?” she asked, giving me a slight pull on the corners of her lips as they moved into a cross between a smirk and a smile.

“Nothing.” I chuffed. “Come on.” I gestured to her inside.

She tensed right away, but I offered her a comforting hand on the small of her back as I guided her through the house and upstairs.

“I think if it’s okay with you, I may take a nap?” she asked when we got to my small room. I handed her a couple blankets from underneath the bed storage.

“Here.” I gave it to her, and her hand lingered on the blanket while looking up at me.

“Rain?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said in a hushed tone.

“For what?”

“For being there for me. I didn’t see it until now, but thank you.” A soft smile played on Ember’s lips as she gracefully took the blanket from my hands. She moved and settled on my bed as if it were her rightful place all along, a vision sent to soothe my wounded soul.

I stood there for a moment, simply watching her as she curled up on my bed. The way she nestled in, the way her presence seemed to light up the room, it was as though she had always belonged here, beside me. I hesitated, caught in the enchantment of the moment, before finally tearing my gaze away from her. There was an emergency meeting downstairs, one I couldn’t delay any longer.

Something, some inexplicable force, tugged at me, urging me to make a brief detour before joining the others. My eyes were drawn to the small staircase, a ladderlike ascent leading upstairs. It had seen little use since the day Mr. Ortiz had cleared Ash’s belongings and clothing from there. I had avoided it, fearful of what memories it might hold. Yet, watching Ember so peaceful on my bed, stirred a longing within me. Without conscious thought, I climbed the ladder and opened the door.

My hand hovered over the doorknob, a sense of trepidation washing over me before I slowly turned it. I half expected to see Ash on the other side, to hear his infectious laughter, to feel his warm embrace. He would have welcomed me with that ever-present smile, the one that never wavered, no matter what lay beneath. I had questioned him, asked him countless times about his well-being, but he never let me in on the battles he fought.

“Damn it,” I whispered as I stood in that half-empty room, gazing out the windows at the encompassing forest of the Den. The gentle rain tapped against the windowpane, yet the room retained a sense of Ash, as though he lingered in its very essence. It felt foreign, out of place, and a lump formed in my throat.

“Why did you do this, Ash? What was your plan?” I cried out, the tears finally flowing freely. After months of being stuck in this seemingly emotionless state, they came like a waterfall.

“Am I supposed to love her freely now? You left behind two shattered souls, both of us blaming ourselves for your departure.”

I cried, my hands buried in my hair, each sob racking my body. A sudden clap of thunder accompanied by lightning felt like Ash’s spirit urging me to find my strength, just as he would have.

“I think I love her too, Ash, but is my love enough for her?” I walked over to his desk, my fingers tracing the remnants of his life scattered upon it.

“Why didn’t you share your pain with me? I would have helped,” I murmured to the silent room. Grief had given way to anger, a burning rage building within me. I was tired, exhausted by the masks I had to wear, and now I was left to heal yet another broken heart.

In a fit of fury, I seized a lamp from the desk and hurled it against the wall. The grief had transformed into a tempest of anger, threatening to consume me whole.

The door creaked open, and I swiftly drew the Glock from my waistband, a precaution I had taken before the meeting, anticipating the need for a show of force. Yet, all I heard was the light pattering of rain on the window behind me.

I swear to God, Ash, if this is your ghost—

“Rain?” Ember’s voice, tinged with concern, pierced the room. I couldn’t let her see me like this—broken and enraged. While kicking a few pieces of glass that had fallen to the floor behind the bed, she pushed the door in quickly.

“Get out of here,” I rasped, “por favor.” I needed to shield her from the wreckage of my emotions. This wasn’t who I was supposed to be. I was to uphold this protective shell around me so she could break down.

Ignoring my plea, she entered the room, her eyes widening as they swept over the half-empty space. I recognized the void reflected in her gaze, a reflection of my own. Yet, she didn’t dwell on the lifeless room. Her eyes met mine, and she rushed toward me, concern etched across her beautiful face. She grabbed the Glock in my hand and threw it on the bed before pulling me tight into an embrace.

“Rain,” she whispered, her fingers brushing away my tears. “Why? How?”

She blinked back her own tears and cupped my face, her warmth wiping away my sadness.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice filled with genuine concern and care.

“No,” I choked out, remaining true to my commitment to always speak the truth. Our gazes remained locked, and in that fleeting moment, even with her hair gathered in a simple bun, she exuded an enchanting grace that transcended the turmoil surrounding us.

“I need to protect you. You shouldn’t see me like this,” I demanded, trying to push her away, but she only placed her small delicate hands on my chest, gently tugging my shirt so I was closer to her.

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