Page 250 of The Fall
“You were incredible tonight,” he whispers.
“You weren’t so bad yourself.”
“That save you made? Unreal.”
I am not remembering his words or this moment; I am arriving here for the second time.
Outside the window, the stars are cold and impossibly distant, and below us, cities glow against the black earth like embers. The night rubs against the glass, empty except for those frozen stars, those blurred lights.
How do you fight a shadow? How do you dodge a blow you can’t see coming?
What if I’m supposed to fail? What if watching Blair die is my punishment for something I did or didn’t do, some cosmic debt I keep paying? I am in a thousand versions of this moment where I tell him different lies and where I swallow different truths.
What ifnothingI do matters?
What if?—
“What if what?” Blair asks.
What if I’m in love with you in every timeline that there is and I’m always destined to lose you?
I shake my head, forcing a crooked half-smile.
Blair doesn’t look away. His gaze stays locked on mine like he might pull the answer straight from me. “What if we make this work?”
God, it’s the opening notes of a song I can’t name but know will break my heart. I want to tell him. I want to scream that we are suspended over waves, that the stars are falling, that his blood is on my hands. I want to confess the whole impossible truth, but I can’t. Ican’t.
He cradles my palm, and his thumb traces the tendons of my wrist where the ache of the game has settled. He digs into a tender spot there, taking care of me. He knows where to go, which bruises need soothing most. His touch gentles at the worst knots. All my muscles want to melt under his hands.
As he works my wrists, I catch him wincing. He’s hiding his own pain. The gravelly grind of his shoulder is the sound of hundreds of games wearing out his body.
“Here,” I say, shifting. “Let me.”
“I’m fine?—”
“Seriously. Let me take care of you for once.”
A flicker crosses his face. “You do take care of me, all the time.”
“Well then—” I motion for him to turn.
He sighs, a small surrender, and twists.
My thumbs find the tight, ropy muscle above his deltoid, and when I grind into a deep burr in his shoulders, his breath hitches. If muscles could tell stories, these knots would speak only in collisions and near-misses.
“Right there?”
A nod is his only answer. His eyes are closed, his head tipped forward. If I could hold him like this forever, maybe he’d never have to hurt again.
Eventually, he captures my hand and brings my palm to his lips. “Thank you.”
I lay my cheek back on his shoulder. His lips brush my hair.
We are a single shape in the deep blue of the cabin. We can steal this time. We can claim this bubble of quiet between earth and sky.
We can beat time, if only I can figure it out.
“I do want to make this work,” I whisper.
