Page 56 of The Space Between
We sit in silence.
The breeze shifts, catching her hair and brushing it against my shoulder.
I stare straight ahead. “I wasn’t supposed to want this, again,” I say after a while. Her breath catches. “I told myself I didn’t deserve it. That Icouldn’twant it. That wanting it would mean forgetting what I lost.”
“You won’t forget them,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “No. But I forgot how to feel anything that didn’t come with guilt.”
She’s quiet a moment, then, she reaches for my hand, and fuck me, I let her take it. Her fingers thread through mine. Warm. Steady. Not demanding. Not saving. Just…there. She sighs, “Gruene, I’m not asking you to stop grieving them,” she pauses. “I’m asking if there’s a version of you that still wants to live.”
It hits like a brick to the ribs because thereisn’t. Not one I’ve let exist. But she’s asking and it matters.
I don’t want to lie to her. So, I squeeze her hand. Just once… not hard. And I say, “I want to try.”
We sit there until the sky’s pitch black. The stars twinkle overhead, and the bugs create a chorus.
She leans her head on my shoulder, and I let her. I lean mine back as we just hold hands and breathe in tandem with the night.
When we finally stand,she doesn’t ask if I’m coming in.
I follow her back to her cabin. She opens the door, and I walk in but I don’t stay the night… not because I don’t want to but because if I’m going to do this, I need to do it without pretending it doesn’t matter.
Whatever is between us…
It’s not casual.
It’s not simple.
It’s dangerous.
It’s the first real thing I’ve let myself feel since the night I killed my family with my own goddamn hands.
And if I’m going to touch her again, it’s going to mean something, and I want to do it with a clear head.
I kiss her at the door. Just once. Deep. Lingering. Honest. And when I pull back, she doesn’t look confused or disappointed.
She just nods… like she gets it… like she knows this isn’t the end. It’s just the edge of something we’re both still terrified to actually name.
CHAPTER 11
Blakelyn
I don’t wakeup panicked.
There’s no dream clawing at my throat. No phantom hands around my wrists. No shadow of Tyler in the room with me.
There’s only light.
Early morning sunshine stretches in through the gauzy curtain like it’s trying to comfort me without asking for anything in return. And…silence. Beautiful silence.
I breathe it in… for the first time in a long time, silence doesn’t feel like fear.
The aches hit me slow… not emotional… physical.
My hips. My thighs. My shoulders.
It’s the kind of soreness you remember with a blush, a shiver, and something dangerously close to a smile.
