Page 107 of Moth to a Flame

“So will you. Back. Inside.”

“I’ll tell you what.” Persistent little thing. A terribly sweet one. “I’ll do that, then return with sweaters for both of us. That way, we’ll stay out here together.”

Lap, lap, lap. The water is as incessant as Regan is.

Neither makes me suffer. Not at all.

And I need to suffer. For her. So I can be patient. So my bones don’t burn.

So I don’t do something that’ll land me in prison and away from Regan.

I have to wait. Have to force myself to do it.

To do fucking nothing until Lester gets out.

No, not nothing.

I’ll be here for her. I’ll be here with her.

“Please, don’t disappear into the waves while I’m gone.” She presses her lips to my shoulder blade. How she’s able to be sosweet is beyond me. After everything that she’s gone through. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

Movement in the water. It splashes as she turns to walk away.

She’ll do no such thing.

“No sweaters.” I turn faster than she can take another step. My hand is a manacle on her wrist. The other one grips her hip, pulling her to me. “I need to…I have to love less. Not you. This world.”

Darkness looks so good on her. The shadows of the night are a silk fabric caressing her skin. The silver moonbeams highlight just enough of her features, her hair, the twinkle in her eyes. Just enough to make sense of the parts the darkness hides.

Sending her back inside is no longer an option.

I have to have her. This slice of happiness. This gift I’m not worthy of, but I’m accepting anyway.

Where it’s dark. Where no one can see us since the lights are off in the houses to our left and right.

I’ll strip Regan of her soft T-shirt and lounge pants. And only I will have a view of her beautiful body.

No. Fucking no. She deserves better.

“You’re going to be a good girl, Regan.” Her pulse rages beneath my thumb as she stands there, brave. Tall. “Go inside, tuck yourself in. Wait for me there. I’ll get back to you when it’s safe. When I’m safe.”

Her hand floats—yes, floats—in the space between us. She lets it rest on my stubbled cheek.

“What did they do to you?”

My chest rises and falls with every harsh breath.

There’s no reason for her to hear about what being my parents’ child was actually like.

What for? She’s been through enough. She’ll have to go through more when her monster gets out of prison, whether it’s next week or in ten or twenty years.

Anything I tell her will only be another burden. I will not burden her.

“We’ve been through this,” I deadpan. “I told you everything.”

“You never told me how living with them made you feel. What really hurt you.”

I grip her tighter.

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